


Human Behavior

by lilisky



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Ed Swears, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, No Slash, Only platonic relationships here folks, Original Character(s), Parental Riza Hawkeye, Parental Roy Mustang, Pre-Canon, Psychological Trauma, Roy drinking that parental juice, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 50,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28155528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilisky/pseuds/lilisky
Summary: After Ed suffers from a breakdown, Mustang forces him to take temporary leave from his military duties and attend therapy in the midst of a crisis in East City. When matters quickly take a turn for the worst, Ed is unexpectedly thrust into the darkest reaches of human degradation.
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric, Edward Elric & Roy Mustang
Comments: 181
Kudos: 201





	1. Virus

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I’m here with an angsty fic to chuck at ao3 because that is all I am capable of writing HAHA  
> I’m still finishing this up, so I’ll be uploading it one/two chapters at a time on Mondays and Fridays. I have content warnings in the beginning of every chapter with potentially triggering subject matter, so please read them and take caution!  
> The title of this fic is taken from Björk’s song, Human Behavior. I named all of the chapter titles after her songs as well :D  
> I hope you all enjoy! Feel free to leave any feedback you have in the comments :) I also have a new [tumblr](https://lilisky.tumblr.com/) so come by and bully me there as well if you’d like <33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> Descriptions of violence/gore

She couldn’t scream anymore.

She had lost that ability long before. At first it had been because her throat was too raw to produce sound anymore, and then it was because her tongue was gone.

She couldn’t remember the exact details of that particular torment now. All of the pain she had experienced—past, present, and future—seemed to be twisting together. She couldn’t discern apart anything she was experiencing anymore.

She didn’t know it was possible to feel like this. Feelings beyond terror, beyond agony. She didn’t know it was possible to feel so terrified, she wanted to be dead, just to escape the feelings of revulsion, humiliation, and sleepless, adrenaline fueled fear she had been experiencing for so long. How long had it been? It could have been ten days or ten years for all she knew.

She felt a hope every time those fingers were back on her face, digging into her throat—a hope that he was going to finally choke the life out of her, finally end it… but she was never that lucky. He wasn’t merciful enough to end it like that. She knew he was going to drag this out as long as he could. She was going to be conscious until every last part of her flesh had been ripped apart, every last bone and organ had been shattered and fragmented. He had told her, whispered it right next to the melted lump of flesh that used to be her ear.

The last thing she saw before she died were his eyes. Pale and hungry, drinking in every part of her shredded body. 

Then she was gone. 

* * *

The knock on Roy Mustang’s door came much too early. Although he supposed he had been dreading this particular meeting for so long, any time it came would have been too early.

“Yes, come in,” He said, unsurprised when Edward entered, his expression foul. Roy was discouraged when he saw how terrible the kid looked. His skin was wan, and he looked almost ready to collapse on the spot. Despite that, his darkly rimmed eyes were still bright with familiar contempt.

“Good afternoon, Fullmetal,” he said.

Ed merely grunted in reply before he walked across the room and dropped his report on Roy’s desk.

“As eloquent as ever, I see,” Roy commented dryly, pulling the papers closer. From what he could see, it was the usual hastily written chicken scratch. He could already feel the headache he would get from trying to decipher it looming over the back of his skull.

“Yeah, you try writing a report in a hospital. It’s impossible to focus in those places,” Ed said in a tired voice, quickly dropping into one of the couches in front of his desk.

“I’m surprised they discharged you so quickly. Are you feeling better?” Roy asked.

“‘m fine. Ready for you to read my damn report and move on from this stupid accident.” 

“You didn’t look fine a few days ago when I visited you,” Roy said pointedly.

“Yeah, well, like you said, it’s been a few days. All healed up now,” Ed sneered, although his voice was a bit too frail for it to have the bite he intended.

“I’ll decode your report later. You’re delusional if you think I’m just going to just send you off again after what you just pulled.” It’d been hard to miss how off-kilter Ed had been. He probably should have listened to his instinct and taken Ed out of the field after his earlier disaster of an assignment that month, but it was too late for that now.

Edward glared at him. “Then what the hell am I here for?”

Roy sorted through the mess of papers on his desk. He found the business card he was looking for and leaned forward, handing it to Ed over his desk. The kid snatched it from his hand with a curious expression.

“Hollis Merrick? Who the hell is this?” Edward scoffed, looking at the front of it. 

“It’s _Doctor_ Hollis Merrick,” Roy hesitated slightly. “He’s a renowned, well-established psychiatrist and therapist who’s been operating in East City for well over a decade.”

Ed went rigid. His fingers pressed down into the card. “A _psychiatrist_?”

Roy had been expecting an explosive response to his proposal, and it seemed like Ed was going to deliver. “Yes. Look, I know you’re not the biggest fan of hospitals. Or doctors in general, but—"

Ed crumpled up the pamphlet and threw it at the table in front of him, jumping to his feet. He looked furious, but was it also…embarrassment?“I don’t need. A stupid _therapist_. Why the hell would you even suggest that? I’m fine!”

Definitely embarrassment. “Because…” Roy sighed. “Look at yourself, Fullmetal. There’s no point in trying to push me away with that nonsense. You are not fine. I can tell there’s been something going on for a while, although I don’t have a clue what. Alphonse told me you haven’t been sleeping, you haven’t been eating, and you’ve barely read or done any research recently. All of your most recent assignments have been disastrous and you just got out of the hospital because of your reckless behavior. Your work these last few weeks has been appallingly bad, and it’s not reflecting well on me to let my subordinates continue working even when they’re clearly not performing adequately. I don’t know what the hell’s going on, but I’m not allowing you back to active duty until your condition improves and you stop endangering yourself. You need to talk to someone, and if it’s not going to be Alphonse, it should be someone who’s going to help you.”

Edward’s molten gold eyes narrowed with suspicion as he spoke. That was the same piercing glare that could strike uncertainty into even the most hardened criminals. Roy had grown used to it a long time ago. “Why the hell are you… Is this a practical joke? Are you trying to trick me?”

Honestly, Roy didn’t even know why he bothered sometimes. He leaned his head sideways onto his chin, returning Ed’s fiery glare.“You know as well as I do that’s not what this is. Stop acting like a child.”

Ed’s glare only hardened. “Why don’t you stop acting like a fascist prick?” He paused for a moment, inhaling. “Look, if you’re actually being serious, I don’t need therapy. I don’t have time to sit around and talk with someone about my _feelings_. That is such bullshit!”

“Watch your language,” Roy snapped. "Not while you're in my office."

The kid’s eye was twitching. “You can’t make me go, anyway. This is so stupid.”

“Actually, I can make you go. Last I checked, I’m your commanding officer. And I’m not letting you get yourself killed, idiot. I’m ordering you to take leave for two weeks and to four appointments with Doctor Merrick. He can also prescribe you medicine to help you sleep better.”

Ed seemed at a loss for words. His fists were clenched. Although he seemed more energized from raging at Roy, he could only see how exhausted the kid was. “You can take a seat again if you need to.”

He just rolled his eyes, of course. Roy swore the kid was going to eye roll his way into another dimension some day.

“Look,” Roy said. “It’s just a few appointments. It’s all being paid for. And it won’t kill you to at least try something new. You’re not going anywhere, anyway, not on my watch. If it helps you get back on your feet faster at all it’ll be worth it. Lieutenant Hawkeye recommended Doctor Merrick to me. He helped her out a few years ago, and her reference is enough for me to know he’s trustworthy. You can tell him anything you need to. And I mean _anything_ ,” He gave Ed a meaningful look. “He could really help you if you just let him.” Emphasis on _if_. Something in Ed’s expression told him that the doctor was going to have a hell of time getting Ed to open up to him. “Your first appointment is tomorrow at 1300 hours. I’m sending someone to pick you up at the hotel.”

Ed gave him a dirty look. “Unless I’m hiding halfway across the city.”

“You don’t have to hide for me to lose sight of you, shorty,” Mustang said, his lips twitching up into a smirk.

“Shut up, bastard. You’d never find me,” Ed said darkly.

“I _will_ flame you, brat,” Mustang said, half relieved that Ed at least responded normally to his ribbing.

The kid leaned back on his heels, leg jittering with anticipation. “Whatever. Can I go now?”

“Wait.” Roy hesitated. 

Edward narrowed his eyes at his expression. “Why are you acting so weird?” He asked bluntly.

“Until you’re fully recovered, I don’t want you going out past dark. And try not to travel alone, if possible.” Roy said.

“What?” Ed said incredulously. 

“I said you’re not to go out alone or past dark,” he repeated firmly.

Ed looked genuinely confused. “What the hell is with you today?” He looked down at Roy’s desk and his eyes cleared with understanding. “Wait… this is about those missing kids isn’t it?”

“...Yes, it is, if you really want to know. The cases are piling up. It’s just a precaution.”

“I’m not a _kid_!” Ed said indignantly, flinging his hands up. “I can handle a run-of-the-mill kidnapper! You should be assigning me to this case, not telling me to watch myself!”

“This isn’t a run-of-the-mill kidnapper. And you just got yourself shot and hospitalized a week ago,” Roy said dryly. “I’ll determine whether or not you need monitoring.”

Ed’s eyes were stinging with fury again. “For the love of god, the bullet just _grazed_ me! It wasn’t even that bad!”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you were injured and refused to seek help. You can’t keep pulling things like this. It’s beyond idiotic.” He let out a long exhale, almost winded from all the rapid fire lecturing he was doing. “Two weeks, four sessions. starting tomorrow. You can leave now,” He finished. He didn’t have the heart to keep scolding the kid, not while he was still looking so dead on his feet.

“Finally,” Ed spat. He inclined his head, hesitated for a moment, then grabbed the crumpled pamphlet from the table and turned to leave.

“And Fullmetal,” Roy said.

“What?” Edward asked in an exasperated voice, twisting his head around again.

“Try to get some actual rest before tomorrow, alright? That’s it,” Roy said.

Ed scoffed and stormed to the door, muttering something probably very vulgar under his breath as he slammed it shut behind him,

The ensuing silence was bliss. Admittedly, the confrontation hadn’t been quite as bad as he had thought it would be, if only because Edward was most likely too exhausted to verbally pummel him and irritate him like he usually did.

There was a knock on his door. Roy looked up as Hawkeye walked through the door, giving him a salute before going to stand in front of him. “How did it go?” She asked.

Roy yawned and leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms out. “About as well as can be expected. I think he’s actually going to go to the appointments willingly, but who knows. It’s a long shot. I might have to go drag him down there myself tomorrow.”

“I’m certain speaking with Doctor Merrick will be beneficial for him. I’m glad you took my advice, sir,” Hawkeye said.

“Yeah, well, me too. I’m more than happy to hand him off. This isn’t exactly my area of expertise. That idiot’s going to run himself into an early grave if he keeps going at this rate.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Riza replied.

Roy gave her a look. “Don’t tell me you’re about to drag me to a chaise longue, too.”

“You have too much work to do, sir."

“Right,” Roy let out a sigh. He usually prided himself on not crossing lines with his subordinates, and he’d been concerned at first sending Edward to a psychiatrist was vaulting straight over that line. Riza assured him it wasn’t. She’d been concerned as well. Roy told himself over and over that he would do this for any of his other subordinates. Even if he knew that probably wasn’t true. His relationship with Edward had never exactly been professional from the start.

He turned his attention to the mess of papers spread out on his desk. “Do you think he’ll finally be caught this year?”

The lieutenant’s expression grew more melancholy. “We can only hope, sir.”

“HQ and the entire city’s been on high alert for almost month now. It’s a mystery he hasn’t been caught yet. This bastard’s good at what he does.”

Twenty two children missing in East City in just over ten years. It hadn’t been until a few years ago that the disappearances had been connected. Always children from the ages of nine to fourteen from all from different socioeconomic backgrounds, always in the months of October and November. Not a single lead. Not a single suspect or clue. Just thousands of terrified parents and a rising demand for the military to catch the organization or person responsible. The case had recently taken on national attention as the cases piled up.

Initially, the case had been entirely the Investigations Department’s assignment, until the kidnappings accelerated this year and there were five missing in the last month. Now practically every military official in HQ had been assigned to help with the case. It was an embarrassment that the crimes had been allowed to continue like this. Roy hated seeing so many frightened parents and children. No one should be living in fear like that in any city in Amestris. Wasn’t that the entire goddamn point of the military?

The picture of the most recent missing kid caught his eye, a twelve-year-old girl named Isidora Watson. She was smiling in the picture, her blue eyes warm. She had gone missing just a week ago. God knew what had happened to her.

Criminal profilers had stated that the abductor was most likely a middle-aged male living in East City, but aside from that lacking description, there was no way to know who to look out for. Speculation in tabloids and newspapers had been wild, raising panic in the public even more. The faster this son of a bitch was caught, the better.

A strict curfew had been issued recently. He had assigned several of his subordinates to join other officers in nightly patrols in the street. The bastard was most likely going to strike at least once or twice again. It was only November twelfth, plenty of time.

“He certainly is,” Riza agreed. “And the only way we’re going to be able catch him is if you don’t slack off.” Her tone was serrated.

Roy made an exasperated sound and waved her off, leaning forward in his chair again. “Yeah, yeah.”

* * *

_Therapy_.

The idea was so funny, Ed could’ve laughed in Mus-taint’s stupid face. If he wasn’t so pissed off.

The concept of _him_ , sitting in a chair and letting a snot-nosed intellectual pick apart the ten thousand miles an hour speeding clusterfuck that was his mind was just… hysterical. Not to mention the fact that someone was trying to force him to talk to a professional psychiatrist _now_ instead of after, oh, I don’t know, his mother died at a grotesquely young age, or after he’d suffered through a failed human transmutation, lost his brother’s physical body, and then gone through a double amputation and automail surgery all within the same two months. It was the sickest joke he’d ever heard. He was tempted to go along just to pick apart the poor psychiatrist to pieces and throw Mustang’s plan right back into his face.

He could practically see the labored thought process forming in Mustang’s mind; could feel the neurons firing as he devised his ingenious plan to get Ed to stop “reflecting badly on him.” _Ed has been acting weird… he hasn’t been sleeping well… he landed himself in the hospital this week… I know! I’ll just send him to a shrink! Forcing him to talk to a stranger with a PhD will magically make his nightmares disappear! Problem solved! Another brilliant solution from Colonel Dickwad!_

He’d gone in expecting the fifth degree, not whatever this was. In all honesty, this seemed…out of character for Mustang. Why would he would go out of his way just to help Ed’s stupid nightmares? But at the same time, he knew the answer. Just another cunning, calculated move on his precious political chessboard. No doubt he had some ulterior motive.

Either that, or he was just plain punishing him for screwing up his last missions. Ed wished he could discern exactly what it was. His head was aching enough as it was.

He was cursing under his breath as he shut the colonel’s door behind him and entered the larger adjoining office.

“Hey, chief!” Havoc said with a wide grin, leaning back in his chair as he walked in. Havoc, Breda, Hawkeye, and Fuery were the only ones in the office right now. Al was sitting on a bench pushed against the wall. He got to his feet and went to go stand near Ed as he left the office. The men around the table looked up at Ed with fondness at the familiar sound of his vehement swearing. “How’d the meeting go?” Havoc asked.

“It went great,” Ed said in a derisive voice. “I’m stuck in East City with you lunatics for another two weeks.” Hawkeye stood up to enter the colonel’s office as Ed walked closer to them. She gave him a smile as she brushed past him. Havoc, Breda, and Fuery watched her move across the room, and when the door shut, they discreetly uncovered a hidden deck of cards and growing pile of cenz under the mess of files and paper on their shared desk. Ed narrowed his eyes at the cards. They were playing Spades. “You’re not worried about how many holes the Lieutenant will put in you when she comes back out?” Ed asked.

“Thanks for the warning, kid. Today’s a slow day. We've got it under control,” Breda said with a smile. They were all well-trained in the art of hiding their games and looking busy before Hawkeye could make it into he room.

Ed crossed around the table and leaned behind Havoc’s shoulder, narrowing his eyes at his open deck in the older man’s hands and the three cards from the others spread out on the table. “Wow, your hand is terrible. How much did you bid?”

Havoc huffed. “I said I’d take four tricks.”

Ed snorted. “Yeah, dream on. No way you’re making two.”

“He’s already lost almost 2500 cenz,” Breda snickered from behind his deck.

“Hey! I have to make up my losses somehow,” Havoc replied.

“This is how you can accrue serious debt, Jean,” Fuery said in a partly serious voice from behind his own pile of cenz, mostly accrued from Havoc. “The first step is admitting you have a problem.”

“I’m sure the next hand will be better!” Al said encouragingly.

“See, I like how he thinks,” Havoc said, turning to smile at Al. “How’re you feelin’ by the way?” The blond asked Ed, reluctantly settling on putting down a six of hearts.

Ed stepped away and shrugged. “‘M fine. Just tired.” That was his default answer these days. It wasn’t like it wasn’t true. And he was feeling especially strung out after having to deal with the human version of a splitting headache.

“Wished I could’ve visited you in the hospital, but we’ve been slammed recently,” Fuery said.

“It’s fine,” Ed scoffed, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, I’m pretty tired myself,” Havoc said, watching dejectedly as the hand went to Breda and he and Fuery handed their cenz over to him. “I had patrol ‘til midnight last night.”

“Patrol?” Al asked curiously.

“Yeah. Officers are being assigned to patrol the streets while that kidnapper still hasn’t been apprehended,” Havoc said.

“Oh, right,” Al said in a sad voice. “It’s so terrible, what’s happening. We’ve been seeing it all over the news since we got back.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” Breda said as he shuffled through the deck. “I’m sure it’ll be resolved soon.”

“I hope so,” Fuery said. “Those kids have apparently been going missing for ten years. It feels hard to be hopeful they’ll be caught when it’s been going on so long."

Breda gave him a look and Fuery cleared his throat. “Nothing you should worry about though, Alphonse.”

“Yeah, Al, it’ll be fine. You ready to take off?” Ed said started to walk to the door.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Al said, following him.

“Bye, guys!” Fuery said, waving at them.

“See ya later, chief!” Havoc said.

Ed gave them a wave before he pushed open the door and he and Al walked down the hall.

There was silence between them for a few moments. “So… what did you talk about?” Al said.

Ed snorted. “I’m off active duty and Colonel Blowhard is trying to force me to see a therapist. A _therapist_."

“ _Brother_ , you should be more respectful than that.” Al sounded beyond exasperated already.

“I’m not insulting him. I’m just describing him.”

“You can’t just—“ Al sighed and changed his tact. “You said he scheduled you to see a therapist?”

Ed shot him a glare as he stalked down the hallway. “I do _not_ want to talk about this right now.”

Al sped up to match his stride. “You never want to talk about anything! You wouldn’t even let me sit in on your meeting with the colonel! I’m so sick of you shutting me out.”

Ed was almost certain his brother would’ve punched him right there if he wasn’t concerned over his health. He wouldn’t mind sparring himself. Taking out his frustration on a giant suit of armor sounded great.

He stalked down the brightly lit halls, feeling annoyance curdling in his stomach. He and Al hadn’t exactly been getting along well recently, and it was entirely his fault. He knew that. “Can you just give me a break, Al? I’m tired of feeling like I’m being interrogated every time we talk.” He sounded petulant but he didn’t care at that point.

“And _I’m_ tired of feeling like you don’t want to talk to me anymore!” Al exclaimed. “We hardly ever speak, and when we do, you barely say anything.”

“We’re talking right now,” Ed said.

“You know what I mean,” Al said, voice raising even higher.

Ed scrubbed the back of his head and shot his brother a glare. “Let’s at least wait till we’re away from HQ until we keep shouting at each other.”

Al huffed but nodded. They started walking again.

Ed could see uniformed officers looking at them as they passed by, but he barely noticed. It wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence for him to get stares for raising his voice at Eastern Command. They finally made it to the main entrance and he shoved the heavy door open, hearing Al clank behind him. It was a beautiful day. The sky was a striking shade of blue and the late autumn air was crisp and invigorating. It annoyed Ed to no end. He kicked brittle leaves under his feet as they walked away from the soul crushingly ugly building and continued down the well-maintained path until they were past the official military grounds and were standing close to a path near to a busy street in East City, lined with orange and red hued trees.

Ed breathed in slowly, exhaustion pinching at the edges of his head. Despite the antibiotics and painkillers he was taking, his bandaged chest was still throbbing. The stupid bullet had barely hit the side of his chest, but the wound had somehow gotten infected and that had kept him bedridden in the hospital for almost three torturous days.

He turned around to face his brother. “I told you, _yes_ , the colonel is making me stay in East City and he’s trying to force me to go see… a _shrink_ ,” He said in a lower voice. “And I’ve told you a million times, there’s nothing wrong with me!”

“Yes there _is_ , Ed!” Al said, exasperated, following him out into the front of the massive building. “And I wish you would stop acting like there’s not! It’s infuriating! We’ve been at this stupid impasse for weeks now. I keep telling you, I’m not going to stop asking you what’s wrong until you tell me!”

Ed shot him an angry glare. He was so sick of people being _concerned_. It grated against his nerves like nothing else. “And I keep telling _you_ , no matter how much you ask me about it I’m not going to talk about it. It’s nothing you need to hear about.”

“I think I can decide whether it’s something I need to hear about or not,” Al shot back. “I’m not angry, Ed,” He said in a more gentle voice. “I can’t be, when you look like that. I’m just worried. You just got out of the hospital for getting yourself shot. It could have been a lot worse.”

Ed stepped back, putting a hand on his forehead. “It was just a dumb mistake. It’s not gonna happen again.”

“I find that hard to believe, Ed,” Al said. “Listen, I think maybe talking to this person might be a good idea. Can’t you at least try? Taking a break for another week or two could be really helpful.” He sounded… hopeful.

Ed shut his eyes for a moment and stuck his hand into his pocket, pulling out the business card he had stuffed in earlier. _Dr. Hollis Merrick, MD, Board Certified Psychiatrist._ His contact information was listed out below. Burning frustration and shame were welling in Ed’s stomach. Sitting around in East City for another two weeks sounded like torment. What the hell was he supposed to do? He’d already laid around in a hospital room long enough. And going to see a damn _therapist_. The idea was idiotic. He didn’t want to do it. And yet…

“Fine. I’ll do it,” he ground out, regretting it the moment the words were out of his mouth. “But don’t blame me if I end up socking this idiot in the jaw tomorrow.”

“Thank you, brother,” Al sounded relieved. “I’m sure this will be helpful to you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ed muttered. He felt a little better when he heard the relief in Al’s voice. It was almost worth it, just for that. He turned around and they started heading back to the main road.

“Do you want to get something to eat?” Al asked, striding faster to catch up.

“Nah, I’m okay.”

Al would’ve glared at him if he could. “You haven’t eaten anything yet today. Or last night.”

Ed threw his head back and sighed. “Fine. Whatever.” He didn’t want to get into another argument today. He was already tired enough.

* * *

Another plant had died.

He wished he could say he was surprised, but it was the second one that month. Unfortunately, his attention had been so divided recently he had forgotten about the potted peace lily sitting on a shadowed windowsill in a drawing room upstairs. He sighed sadly when he found it and took the poor thing outside, setting it by the cypress trees.

He took a moment to gaze up at the sliver of bright light in the night sky and feel the chill in the air. The cool breeze in the murmuring trees around him meant that the end was approaching—the time he looked forward to most each year had almost slipped away. It had become a ritual over time, something which had started merely as a way to placate himself and ended as an honor and a comfort.

There was still work to be done. Dawn would be approaching soon. He turned around, ready to head back and continue the dismantling and draining.


	2. Tabula Rasa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> Descriptions of gore, nightmare sequence

Ed couldn’t sleep that night. It was a regular occurrence for him recently, but he felt especially fidgety and restless that night. He probably should’ve been frustrated, but he knew that was preferable to actual sleep.

The night terrors had started a little over three weeks ago, after an assignment in the northeast had gone south. A simple inspection turned into a brawl when the corrupt mayor and his cronies attacked the brothers with surprising force. With their incredible luck, the thugs had a knowledgable alchemist on their side and in the ensuing battle, she had almost destroyed the fragile bond that connected Al’s soul to the earth– Ed's dried blood smeared on the inside of Al's helmet. One small scratch and he would’ve been gone. Ed's entire world and purpose would fall apart. 

If he hadn't brutally injured the majority of those criminals and destroyed half the city, Al would have been killed. It had been close. Way too close. Ed barely managed to stop them in time. That night, on the train ride home, he startled half the car awake when he woke up screaming. In the next weeks, the nightmares didn’t stop. They seemed to get worse, paired with a nauseating mix of sleepwalking and sleep paralysis.

His nightmares hadn't been this bad in a long time. Ed still wasn't sure why that mission had affected him in this way. It was frustrating to no end. He had been through far worse than that with Al without effects like this. The endless night terrors had turned into him just flat out refusing to sleep most nights. What was the point if he was just going to go through the same torment over and over and wake up more exhausted every time?

His work on his other assignments after that one had been inadequate, he knew that. He was almost surprised Mustang hadn’t punished him or pulled him out earlier. Their most recent mission, just last week, he and Al had been sent to help a nearby town take care of a band of smugglers. It should’ve been easy, just like their earlier mission, but Ed’s exhaustion dulled his reflexes and he ended up getting shot by a fresh-faced second lieutenant with offensively bad aim who’d been working with them. He honestly thought it hadn’t been that bad until he fell flat on his face at the train station five days ago outside East City. And when he finally reported to Colonel Douchebag after that debacle, he was slammed with the information that he was trapped in East City for two more weeks _and_ he was being forced to go to a damn therapy session. In nine hours.

Ed rolled over in bed and glared at the clock on the wall, eyes stinging. Mustang _knew_ how much Ed hated shit like this. He knew how much it would drive him insane. Was he doing this to help him or torment him? Either seemed likely with him.

Suddenly, the door creaked open behind him. Ed dropped his head back down to his pillow and screwed his eyes shut. There was a clanking sound as a suit of armor peeked in the room and watched Ed’s slow breathing.

“Ed? Are you asleep?” Al asked quietly.

Ed didn’t reply. Al paused for a moment and then stepped away, shutting the door behind him.

Ed scrubbed his eyes and sat up, trying not to wince as his side ached. Al deserved a medal for being there every time he had woken up in a blind panic, screaming, in the last few weeks. If it hadn’t been impossible for him to feel tired, he would’ve been just as exhausted as Ed.

A warm wave of fatigue was sitting at the edge of his head, pulling at his eyes, trying to lull him to sleep, but he wasn’t going to give in. He glanced over to the window on the other side of his cramped room, wishing he could climb out and go for a night walk to keep himself awake.

He was only able to keep this up for another few minutes before he passed out.

* * *

It was dark. So, so dark. Ed couldn’t make out anything. He opened his eyes as wide as they would go and tried to walk forward, but it felt like his limbs were being held in place. He recognized this. Hadn’t he been here before…?

Suddenly, far away, he heard someone crying out in pain, “Someone! Help me! Please!”

Ed went rigid. He knew that voice. It had been absorbed into his skin, carved into his organs since he could remember.

“ _AL_!” He desperately tried to scramble forward, tried to shake himself out of whatever was holding him in place, but he couldn’t. Something was pulling him away, keeping him from his brother.

“ _Please_ it hurts! Please stop! Why are you doing this?” Al’s voice was bordering on hysteric sobbing now. Ed almost couldn’t make out what he was saying through the pounding in his ears and his own ragged breath.

“ _Al_! Just wait, I'm coming!” He tried to jump forward, tried to pull at whatever was keeping him back.

“ _Please, please_ ,” Al shrieked, his pleads turning into screams of agony.

Ed was flailing, trying to throw himself in a million different directions, his entire body shaking, his breathing growing more and more difficult to control. “ _Al_! Hang on! I’m going to… I’m going to…”

A piercing, tortured cry tore out in the hall, coming from a different direction than Al’s voice. Ed spun around, his eyes wide open, every inch of his body spasming. 

“ _Ed, help me! Why couldn’t you save me? Why did you kill me_?”

It was… it was his mother… 

Oh, God. Suddenly, he could see her blackened, crippled body only a few feet away, staring right at him, eyes and mouth wide open, screaming forever and ever. Her eyes were gone, replaced by hollow, gaping holes.

Ed choked. He tried to scream her name, but it caught in his mouth. It stung like bile. Unconscious tears were streaming down Ed’s face. His entire body was shaking so hard he couldn’t move anymore. The screams were reaching an ear-splitting decibel. He couldn’t take it anymore. His eardrums were going to implode.

Ed screwed his eyes open again and, next to her, he could suddenly see through his blurring vision that Al had been right next to her—right next to _him_ , the entire time, while he was suspended uselessly in the air. How? How had he not seen his own brother, dying right next to him?

There was a mass of people gathered around Al, obscuring Ed’s vision of him. They were all dressed in black.

Ed’s eyes widened in horror.

One by one, each of them stepped away and turned to face Ed. They had stepped far enough away so that he could see Al.

And… where Al should have been was just puddles of blood and lumps of flesh and unidentifiable organs.

Ed’s vision dimmed. He convulsed. His breath was gone. The world was closing in on him. The screaming was still in his ears. His dying family was still burned into his retinas. He couldn’t take this. He was about to die, and he welcomed it. He couldn’t live in a world where he had allowed this to happen.

* * *

“Brother! _Brother!_ Stop! You need to breathe!”

Ed came to awareness with a cold _snap._ His eyes shuddered open and he blinked hard, trying to take in where he was. He could feel cool metal on his arms. Al was holding him and he was digging his feet into the hard floor, frantically trying to scramble out of his arms. Ed forced himself to slow his breathing and relax. His limbs stilled and he swayed for a moment before he was solidly standing on his feet again.

He was standing in the hallway outside of his room, bright sunlight funneling in from the windows in from the other end of the suite.

“Ed, can you hear me?” Al asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I can hear you,” Ed gasped, pushing himself away drunkenly from his brother’s chest plate and slamming against the nearby wall. Goddammit. It had happened again.

“It’s almost ten. I didn’t want to wake you,” Al responded.

Ed could finally keep his eyes open all the way. He pushed himself off the wall and and managed to stand straight after a moment of struggling. “Ten?” Ed asked. His skin was drenched in cold sweat. There was bile sitting at the back of his throat. It also felt scratchy, like he’d been screaming his lungs out. He probably had been.

Al nodded, reaching out to help steady Ed again, but Ed swatted his hand away. “Great,” He croaked. The appointment was in three hours and he felt like something he’d scrape off the bottom of his boot.

“What were you dreaming about?” Al asked.

Ed shook his head and turned around, starting to walk slowly back to his room. Al had asked him this question a million times and he had the same answer every time. “Nothing. I don’t remember.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. The details were already escaping him. Things from his dreams tended to come back throughout the day in either startlingly clear snapshots or just vague feelings of déjà vu.

“Of course you don’t,” Al said dryly, voice soaked in irritation.

Ed rolled his stiff neck back as he staggered into his room. “I’m taking a shower,” He called over his shoulder.

Al sounded like he wanted to keep asking him questions, but he just gave a frustrated sigh. “Okay. I’m making you breakfast when you get out, alright?”

Ed grunted as he bent over his suitcase, which was already flung open by the door, clothes scattered around the floor. The sheets on his twin bed were twisted into knots and the comforter was spread out on the floor.

Al must’ve taken that as a sign of understanding, because Ed heard the sound of clanking metal on the ground as his brother walked away. He sorted through his clothes and picked out his least wrinkled shirt and pair of pants before he walked somewhat unsteadily to the bathroom and took a steaming shower. It felt like the water was scalding his skin off, but that was how he wanted it. He could feel the dregs of the nightmare clinging onto him. This cycle of night terrors never seemed to leave him: his mom and brother stretched out, bleeding out in front of him in a circle, a perfect array transforming his sleep into a grotesque landscape of fear.

Ed tried to push those thoughts aside as he stepped out of the shower. He examined himself in the mirror as he rubbed a towel through his dripping hair. He looked… passable. Better than he did yesterday, at least. Even if his sleep had been poisoned, it was still sleep. Kind of. He rubbed his darkly smudged eyes. He felt a lot older than fourteen as he looked into his reflection. Almost fifteen, he reminded himself.

Ed pulled his hair back and walked back to his room, feeling warm and calm from the steam. He could hear something frying on the stove down the hall.

After a short lived effort to clean his room, he walked to the kitchen and watched Al make breakfast. He took his prescribed painkillers and managed to eat a piece of toast and some eggs, but his stomach wouldn’t allow him any more. His appetite had been pretty pathetic ever since the night terrors started, which was definitely unfortunate for his automail. He usually ate twice as much as a regular person. Al thankfully didn’t comment on how much he ate, and they passed the morning in relative silence until there was a ring on the doorbell.

Ed heard Havoc’s voice across the suite from his room. He glanced up at the ticking clock on the wall. 12:40. It was time. He jumped to his feet and pulled on a black jacket, coat, and his gloves. He looked like he was going to a funeral, but that felt fitting.

He stepped out into the living room and Havoc waved at him from the entryway, signature cigarette dangling from his lips at an angle. “Afternoon, chief. Colonel sent me over to drive you two to Doctor Merrick’s today.”

“Hey, Havoc,” Ed mumbled.

“Someone’s in a good mood today,” He said, giving him a sly grin.

“Yeah, yeah. It time to go yet?” Ed asked.

“Sure, if you’re ready,” Havoc said.

Ed nodded and pushed past the lieutenant to stand outside. It was a beautiful, sunny day, with a fresh, cool breeze blowing. The nice weather grated against his nerves. It could at least have the decency to look as miserable as he felt. He climbed into the passenger’s seat of the military issued car Havoc had driven over, and tuned out Al’s and Havoc’s chatter on the drive over.

He snapped out of his reverie when the car slowed down after just a few minutes. Ed looked up and saw that the car was pulling up in front of an impressively large mansion. Despite being in the center of East City, it had an expansive, well-manicured lawn and a gathering of trees around it. A line of shrubs lined the path leading up to the entrance of the house. Ed’s brows raised. “This is where we’re going?”

“Yep. This is your stop,” Havoc said. He pulled up at the curb and let Ed and Al gape at the house. It was impressive. Three stories tall, with gleaming red brick and white embellishments and swooping balconies and spires on the roof. Columns lined the front of the house, covering the front entrance like jail bars.

“Wow! It’s so beautiful!” Al said with awe.

“Is this really the guy’s house?” Ed asked, tone edging into disbelief.

“Yup. It’s pretty normal for doctors of this variety to see patients in their houses.”

“Damn. What did the Colonel have to sell to get me an appointment with this guy?” Ed asked, only half joking as he looked around the area. Every nearby house was as imposing as this one. He didn’t spend a lot of time in wealthy neighborhoods like this.

Havoc shrugged, turning off the ignition. He ground out his cigarette in the car and tossed it into the storage compartment next to where Ed sat. “Your guess is as good as mine. How ‘bout I walk you guys in?”

Ed opened his door and followed Havoc and Al down the path to the gilded front door. The grass was lush and green around them. Al paused for just a moment as they walked to the house.

“Al? You good?” Ed asked him. He was bent over something.

“There’s a dead bird on the ground,” Al replied, bending over. Ed went to stand by his side as he scooped up a small, motionless bird into his hands.

“Oh,” Havoc said with surprise. “You wanna maybe take it over to the woods or somethin’?”

Al nodded. “I’ll just be a moment.”

Ed rolled his eyes as he watched his brother traipse across the lawn to the small woodland next to the estate. Of course Al found a dead bird on the ground. Of course he was going to gently set it in the woods with the closest he could to a fond expression, probably thinking about the sanctity of all forms of life or something similar.

He tapped his foot on the path impatiently. “Come on, Al, you’re not throwing the thing a funeral!” He called over.

“Just give me a second!” Al shouted back.

Ed shot Havoc a look as they watched him dig a little hole for the bird. He was clanking back over soon enough, and Ed strode up to the pillared entryway as Al made his way over to them.

Havoc followed him and rang the doorbell. It rang for almost a half a minute before a graying middle-aged woman in a housekeeper’s uniform opened the door.

“Oh, good afternoon!” She said in a kind voice. “Are one of you Major Edward Elric?” She asked.

“Yep, that’s me,” Ed said. Al was finally at his side again.

“Oh, well, come on in!” She said, opening the door.

At least she didn’t immediately assume Al was the Fullmetal Alchemist, for once. Havoc and Al wiped their feet off before stepping inside. Ed looked around as they walked in. The interior was somehow even more impressive than the outside of the house. The entrance hall led into a colossal, well-lit room with a long, shining chandelier and a gold trimmed, swooping staircase which led to the next floors. Two expansive halls sat under the staircase, leading to the rest of the house. Colorful paintings and rich wallpaper covered most of the walls. There was plush carpet under Ed’s feet. All the decorating was tasteful and elegant and looked just… rich. Everything about this damn house screamed _rich_. Ed got the feeling he was going to dislike this big shot as much as much as he thought he would 

“Welcome,” The housekeeper said, giving them a friendly smile. “My name is Lenore. You can wait here while I go let the doctor know you’ve arrived,” She gestured to a bench set close to the doorway. She set off up the stairs and left them.

“Being inside houses like this makes me nervous I’m going to knock something over,” Al said, taking a seat on the bench, looking at the delicate decorations hung on the walls around them.

“Eh, wouldn’t be much of a loss. These pricks could afford to lose one or two priceless ornaments,” Ed said, crossing his arms as he stood in the middle of the entryway.

Havoc chuckled as Al shot him a glare. “Ed, you’d better speak more respectfully when the doctor—”

He was interrupted when Lenore returned down the staircase, a tall man approaching behind her. Ed could only assume it was Doctor Merrick. Al jumped to his feet again and stood beside Ed and Havoc as they came to stand in front of them.

Ed didn’t uncross his arms as he looked up at the doctor. He was well over six feet tall, probably in his late forties, and looked to be in good shape, much to Ed’s surprise. He’d been expecting a frail highbrow. Merrick was wearing a well tailored, light gray suit, along with a maroon ascot and tie. That one outfit probably cost as much as Ed made in a month. Guy looked ready to go to a formal ball and he was just dressed to sit around in his house and yap with a teenager. Merrick was clean shaven, tanned, and had a strong jawline and groomed dark brown hair. His eyes were the palest shade of blue Ed could recall seeing, but despite that, they were warm. Overall, just very punchable, he noted.

“Welcome, all, I’m Doctor Hollis Merrick,” He said in a welcoming voice, looking at all of them. Ed tried not to glower, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t working judging by the way Al elbowed him in the ribs.

Merrick held out his hand and looked down at Ed. “You must be Major Elric. Very pleased to meet you. Alright if I call you Edward?” He asked as he held out his hand.

He was charming, Ed would give him that. He held out his automail arm to shake the man’s hand and was surprised by how strong his firm was. “Yeah, likewise. That’s fine.”

“You can call me Dr. Merrick, or Hollis if you’d prefer,” Merrick said in reply, releasing his hand.

Yeah, Ed would stick with Doctor.

Merrick turned to Havoc and shook his hand as well. “Second Lieutenant Havoc,” Havoc said in reply.

Merrick nodded and shook Al’s hand as well. “And I’m Alphonse Elric, Edward’s younger brother,” Al said.

“Wonderful. Are both of you planning on staying during our appointment?” He asked.

“No, actually, I’m gonna take off. Thank you for your hospitality,” Havoc said. “Falman will be back in about an hour,” He said to Ed. Ed nodded in reply.

“I’ll see you out,” Lenore said. She stepped forward and gestured to the door. “See you guys later,” Havoc said, waving at them before he followed her out.

“Bye, lieutenant!” Al said.

Ed held up a hand as Lenore opened the door for the lieutenant and they walked out.

“Is it alright if I stay here while you two have your appointment?” Al asked, polite as ever.

“Of course! I’m more than happy for you to stay as long as you need,” Merrick said. He gestured to his right. “My office and the dining room are this way. Would either of you care for a drink or a canapé?”

“Ah, I’m fine! Thank you, doctor,” Al said.

Ed blinked, trying to remember if he recognized the word canapé. “Uh, no. Thanks.” No, he definitely didn’t.

“I’m fine with waiting in another room, if that’s alright,” Al said.

“Of course! I have a library upstairs I think would be perfect for you to wait in. Does that sound alright?”

Ed knew his expression was still annoyed, and he didn’t care. Why didn’t _he_ get to go hang out in the rich guy’s library?

“That sounds perfect!” Al said.

“Alright,” Merrick held up his arm as he a looked at a watch on his wrist. “I think it’s just about time for our appointment to begin. You can follow me this way,” Merrick said, turning around to head in the direction where he saw his office was. Ed and Al followed him. They passed by a a drawing room, a stained glass window, and a grand piano on their way down the hall. Merrick paused as they came to a mid sized room with an unlit fireplace and tall bookshelves. Two overstuffed armchairs sat a few feet apart from each other in the center of the room, each with its own small end table. One was covered with papers and a notebook placed in the middle. A large square window with sheer curtains shone down on the room. More paintings decorated the walls and potted plants rested against the walls.

“This is where we’ll be sitting,” Merrick said, gesturing to the room. Prison.

Al peeked inside. “It looks nice!” He said.

“Thank you,” Merrick said. “I take great pride in decorating my house.”

There was a pause, and then Ed heard Lenore shutting the front door and walking back down the hall to join them.

“Ah, Lenore!” Merrick said. “Would you mind showing Alphonse to the library upstairs and fetching some water for us?”

“Of course,” She replied.

“Hold on,” Al said. He turned to Ed. “Are you okay if I leave now?”

Ed scoffed and waved him away. “I’m fine. You can go upstairs,” He said.

“You’re free to leave at any time you need to, Edward,” Merrick said. “Just a reminder.”

Ed inhaled through his nose and walked into the room, ready to get this over with.

“I’ll see you later!” Al said.

“See you in a little,” Ed replied. He watched as they walked down the hall. He turned around and faced the irritatingly cozy looking room.

“You can take a seat, Edward,” Merrick said. Ed walked over to one of the armchairs and sunk into it. It felt soft and leathery beneath him, warm from the sun filtering in through the window.

Merrick shut the door behind them. “How are you doing today?” He asked as he walked to the table and picked up the pile of papers.

Ed rubbed his fingers together in his lap, feeling the cloth of his glove grind against itself. Despite the sunny room, he felt uneasy. “I’m okay.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” The man replied brightly. “I have a few forms I need you to sign for me before we begin speaking. Is that alright?”

“Why do you keep asking me if everything is alright with me?” Ed asked, wondering if it was too late to bolt from the room and hide far, far away from this nauseatingly cheerful man.

“Because,” Merrick said, crossing the room to hand him the papers and pen. “My priority is making sure you feel comfortable, Edward. I don’t want to do or say anything to cause discomfort.”

Ed glared at him as he reached over and grabbed the papers from his hand. Making sure he felt _comfortable_? He didn’t think he would ever feel comfortable with some stranger poking around in his brain. He blinked down at the papers in his hands. It was a whole lot of legalese he didn’t understand.

“It’s just a few basic forms all military personnel have to sign before they can speak to a professional psychiatrist,” Merrick explained. He sank into the seat across from Edward, crossing his arms together. “I’m saying that because you don’t look comfortable, Edward.”

Ed gave him a look before he bent down to uncap the pen and signed his name underneath the line, just to be annoying. He was just going to have to trust Mustang that he wasn’t signing away the rights to his life. He didn’t have the patience to go through any of that gibberish. “Do I not?” He said somewhat sardonically.

“No, you don’t. And I’d like to know why, if you don’t mind,” Merrick said.

Ed glanced up at him briefly before he flipped to the next page. The doctor looked curious. “Do you have to wait ’til I’m done signing this to start picking at my brain?” He asked.

“‘Picking at your brain?’” Merrick asked.

Ed signed his name as messily as possible, taking up almost half the page, and turned it over. “Yes. Picking at my brain,” He said repeated impatiently. “Isn’t that what I’m here for?”

“Well, no,” Merrick said. He adjusted his posture in the chair. “Although it is interesting that you would phrase it like that. You’re here because you’ve been having difficulty with night terrors, insomnia, and a recent hospital visit, correct?”

Ed grit his teeth. “Yep. And a certain smug colonel.” Only one left.

“Ah, Colonel Mustang. Yes, he contacted me and we met last week. We met through a mutual friend, his subordinate, Lieutenant Hawkeye. I had the pleasure of meeting with her years ago.”

Ed didn’t like the idea of Mustang and Merrick having a _meeting_ about him. He dragged the last line across the page with more force than necessary and stood up slightly to hand the papers across to the doctor. “Yeah, I heard about that.” Ed paused. “Did he… tell you anything about me?"

“Thank you, Edward,” Merrick said. He set the forms on the table next to him and grabbed an expensive looking notebook and pen from the nearby table. “He didn’t mention very much. Just some basic information about yourself and the symptoms of what you’ve been experiencing.”

“Hmm,” Ed said. At least Colonel Dildo didn’t blab too much about him. He couldn’t tell how open he could be. There were four hour long appointments to fill up with what? Sitting in this stupid chair, chatting up this geezer? He recalled Mustang telling him he could tell this man anything. Did that really mean… anything? Including his past and the real explanation for his nightmares? This guy wasn’t military. There wasn’t a chance of anyone important finding out about his past if he did. But that didn’t change the fact that he didn’t trust this guy as far as he could throw him. A friendly smile and a nice house only meant so much.

“Continuous intense nightmares or night terrors are usually indicative of some unresolved confusion still afflicting a person, usually one that they haven’t given the appropriate attention.” Merrick was interrupted as there was a knock on the door and Lenore walked back into the room, holding two glasses of water. “Excuse me,” She said as she snuck into the room and set the glasses onto each of their tables. “Thank you,” Merrick said.

Ed thanked her quietly as well and tried to give her a smile as she left the room.

Merrick took a sip of the water before he continued speaking. “Night terrors frequently lead to dangerous behavior or injury, as I believe you experienced this week. Are you healing well?”

Ed nodded, tracing circles on the condensation beading on the glass of water.

“Good. That’s why you’re here. I want to help you prevent that from happening again. Establishing a regular sleep routine and finding ways to relieve stress can also help reduce night terrors. Locking doors and windows at night may also help prevent injury. You should try all of those methods. I can also write you a prescription today for some medication that will help you sleep better. You can fill it at a pharmacy today and see if that will help you.”

Ed nodded again, pulling out his hair from behind his head and tossing it over his shoulder. That sounded beneficial. At least that could get him actual results, unlike this. He crossed his legs and leaned his chin forward into his hand, staring at the small particles filtering in the bright sunlight.

“Look, Edward,” Merrick said. His muted eyes were trained on Ed. “I understand that this is an unusual situation and you have a… complex history. I just want you to know that I’m only here to help you and I respect whatever you you want to talk about. We won’t speak about whatever you don’t want to.”

Ed raised a brow. His sugarcoated words weren’t going to make him spill his guts. But that was nice to hear. “Yeah. Okay.” He said. He paused for a moment, hesitated. He looked back up at the man. The words were sentimental, but there was something else compelling about them. There was a certain intelligence in those eyes. “How long have you been a doctor?” He asked.

“Around eighteen years,” Merrick answered.

 _Eighteen years_. That was a long time. Ed’s eyes slid up to look at one of the painting on the wall behind Merrick. It was a colorful, detailed scene of a park, filled with a dozen different people wandering about.

“Oh, are you looking at the painting?” Merrick turned to look at the painting behind him. “That’s one of my favorites I’ve done,” He said.

“You painted that?” Ed said with surprise.

“I did,” Merrick said with a chuckle. “I’ve picked up a plethora of hobbies over the years. Drawing and painting, playing the piano, gardening… It tends to happen as you grow older.”

“It’s really good,” Ed remarked truthfully. He wasn’t exactly the most artistic person, but it was surprisingly well drawn.

“Thank you,” Merrick replied. “I enjoy observing and drawing scenes and people. It comes from so many years of studying human behavior, I suppose.”

Ed leaned forward to examine the painting, focusing on a woman drawn in the bottom corner. His yellow rimmed eyes narrowed. Brown hair tied around her shoulder, eyes that looked like a familiar shade of green. His breath caught in his throat. It _couldn’t_ be… could it?

“Are you alright, Edward?” Merrick asked, concerned.

“Someone in that painting just… looks kind of like someone I used to know,” Ed said. “You said you draw real people, right? When did you draw this picture?”

“Ah… it was around two years ago now I believe?”

“Oh.” It couldn’t be her. Of course it wasn’t. Still, the resemblance was unnerving, even from where he sat. Although it could very well just have been his mind playing tricks on him, overactive from his nightmares. The details of his most recent dream were blurring together, but he knew she had been in it, just like the rest of them.

“Who does she look like?” Merrick asked, scribbling something in his notepad. Ed watched him. He wasn’t sure what he could possibly be writing. They hadn’t exactly discussed anything of substance. He hesitated and sat his elbow on the arm of the chair, rubbing his chin into the heel of his hand. “No one. Just my mom,” He said casually, but he regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Bringing up his mom at a therapy session? How stupid was he?

“Oh, your mother,” Merrick said. “You said you used to know her?”

“Yeah, she’s dead,” Ed said bluntly. No point in beating about the bush with that one.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Edward,” Merrick said sincerely. He leaned back further in his chair, thinking. “Was it recent?”

“Nah. I was a kid. It was a long time ago,” he said in an offhand voice.

“Hmm. And what of your father?”

Ed snorted. “Oh, he’s still alive. Just haven’t seen him in years. And I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

“So you’ve been living without any parents for a while?”

Ed bit back a lump in his throat that tasted like bitter regret. Of what exactly, he wasn’t really sure. “Yeah. Just me and Al.”

“Have your nightmares included any of your family members?”

Ed’s eyes snapped up to meet his. “How’d you know?”

Merrick smiled gently. “Just an educated guess. Your relationships with your family members seem to have caused you some affliction and could contribute to your nightmares.”

Ed didn’t like how quickly this guy had zeroed in on him. “Alphonse and my mother haven’t caused me affliction.” He snapped. “If anyone’s caused _affliction_ , it’s me to them.” He winced inwardly at his words. What the hell was wrong with him?

Merrick’s expression tapered by the smallest degree. “Why do you say that?”

Ed rolled his head off his hand and looked up at the painting again. Every sentence he was saying felt like pulling out something pulsating and precious from his stomach. Namely, organs. “I don’t know, because it’s true?”

“If you don’t mind me asking, in what way?” Merrick asked.

It couldn’t have been longer than ten minutes since their session had started, and he felt cornered already. How angry would Mustang get if he decked this prying bastard in the face and hopped out the window? “I actually do mind,” Ed said.

Merrick nodded and paused. “You said you feel guilt of some kind?” He asked.

 _Goddammit_. He’d really backed himself into this corner faster than he would have thought possible. “Yeah. I guess.”

“Guilt over what?” Merrick asked.

Ed glared at Merrick for a moment and their eyes met again. He rubbed his fingers together again, feeling the glove start to slip off his automail hand. Inside, he was yelling at himself to shut the fuck up, but another part of himself wanted to try to answer, inexplicably. “You know, about a year ago, Alphonse and I were sent out to investigate the disappearances of a few people in a small farming town west of here. When we got there, we found out that they were being killed by an alchemist trying to bring her husband back to life. She was killing people and trying to exchange their lives to bring her husband back. It was a twisted, baseless attempt at human transmutation, born out of grief and desperation. She was ignoring the most basic law of alchemy, going against everything she knew. Human life doesn’t work like that. It only goes one way. Exchanging one life for another is impossible, even with the powers of alchemy. She didn’t fight back when we confronted her. She let herself be taken into custody.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “It makes you wonder how someone is capable of something like that. Taking so many lives, just out of a crazy hope you can bring back someone to life, even though you know deep down it won’t work. Whether that capability is in every person.”

“Nature versus nurture, hmm?” Merrick asked, writing in his notebook.

Ed scoffed. “No, I don’t buy into that. ‘Nature versus nurture.’ Too simplistic. We’re all built from the same basic elements and born into a world of circumstance and chance we can’t control. What someone’s capable of depends on both nature and nurture. No way it’s just one or the other.” Ed clenched his fingers even tighter as he remembered that day. “When I looked into that woman’s eyes, I saw myself.”

“Someone willing to go too far for the ones you love?” Merrick asked softly.

“Someone capable of trying to break the laws of nature and destroying every person around myself.” Ed bit out, grinding his teeth together.

Merrick paused for a moment, then looked up from his notebook. “I understand, Edward. I’d love to discuss this further. Once again, we’re both only here to support you. I’ve been helping people just like you for almost two decades. I know you’re skeptical, but I promise if you’re patient and bear with me, it will work. But it will only work if you’re willing to try.” He paused, looking right at Ed. “Do you want to try?”

They held a staring contest for a few moments until Ed looked away. He thought of Al, sitting upstairs, unable to feel the wooden floor beneath his feet and the turning of pages beneath his fingers. Of the frustration he felt every time he’d woken up exhausted for the last few weeks. Although it annoyed him to no end, he _did_. Just speaking about that had felt like he was releasing something deeply coiled around his stomach. He wanted to get better and get one foot in front of the other. He wanted to try. He was going to _try_. “Yeah. Fine. Let’s do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re curious to hear to the songs I named the chapters after, here’s a [playlist!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/05GPC3z0i5E1oOLcxwHrV4?si=ucK89idGQr-FEgXOnA66uw)  
> Is this a fic or just me encouraging everyone to listen to Björk? We’ll never know.  
> Thank you for reading! We’re still in the set up of the story right now, but it ramps up soon. Feel free to leave a review or come yell me at on my tumblr :)  
> The next two chapters will be up on Monday. I’ll see you then!


	3. Claimstaker

The sun was warm on Ed’s back when he pushed open the doors to Eastern Headquarters. The weather had been so beautiful it almost managed to keep his mood from souring at the memory of why he was at the massive building in the first place. He walked inside and there was the usual tedious bustle of navy blue in the building as officers passed by him in the halls.

Ed stopped in his tracks when he heard the distinct sound of a woman crying quietly. He cocked his head towards the sound. It was coming from behind a nearby brightly lit door. He was pretty sure he was nearing the Investigations division. He walked curiously towards the door and peeked inside. There was a small adjoining room in front of the office inside. A woman with rumpled clothes and mousy brown hair was sitting in a row of chairs in front of the stark white walls. She was leaning forward, holding a handkerchief close to her mouth, shaking with suppressed sobs. Ed’s brows knitted with concern. He knew it was none of his business, but she just looked so… miserable. And no one was helping her. He pushed open the door quietly and stepped inside, standing awkwardly in place for a moment.

“Hey, are you alright, ma'am?” He asked, feeling extremely self-conscious.

The woman started and looked up at him. She gave him a watery smile. “Oh, hello, young man. Yes, I’m alright. Just a little bit upset. Who are you?”

Ed shut the door behind him, wanting to give her privacy. “My name’s Edward. I’m the Fullmetal Alchemist.”

Her eyes widened a little with recognition. “Oh, I had no idea the Fullmetal Alchemist was so young!” She said with surprise.

Ed smiled sheepishly. At least she didn’t mention anything about his height.

“It’s nice to meet you. My name is Evelyn Kildare. I’m here because…” Her expression fell again and she wiped her eyes with the handkerchief.

“What’s wrong?” Ed asked, walking to stand closer to her.

“I apologize for my composure. It’s just… It’s my daughter,” Her voice was quiet and fragile. “I’m here because she went missing last night.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, battered oval shaped metal picture frame. “Her name is Daphne. She’s only fourteen,” She said despondently.

Ed’s heart sank as he bent down to look at the photo. The picture frame was cracked from age and the glass had been shattered at some point. Ed brought his gloved hands together and rested his fingers on the metal frame. Mrs. Kildare watched with amazement as electricity crackled in the air and the aluminum and copper frame and glass mended itself back together. Ed bent to look at the now gleaming glass. The girl in the picture was around Ed’s height, with brown eyes and golden blonde hair. She was smiling brightly, holding a toddler with similarly colored eyes and hair in her lap. “I’m sorry. That’s terrible.”

“Thank you. And please, don’t apologize. It’s not your fault,” Mrs. Kildare said shakily. She looked ready to keel over with a slight breeze. “I fell and hurt myself outside. A kind man helped me back to my house, and Daphne insisted on going in my stead to get some things for me from the pharmacy just an hour before curfew. She never came home. I should have known. I shouldn’t have sent her out so late.” She sounded regretful as she turned the picture around to look at it.

“You couldn’t have known. Don’t blame yourself,” Ed said, keeping his voice gentle. “Are you sure there’s not somewhere else she could be?”

Mrs. Kildare shook her head. “No. She’s been taking care of me for the last few months, as my health has been declining. She would never disappear like this.”

“I’m sure she’ll be found. The military and the entire city is doing everything it can to find those children.” Ed was doubtful of his own words. Hadn’t Fuery mentioned that they’d been disappearing for years? How likely was it that the perpetrator would be found now.

“Yes, I understand. It’s just… there have been so many. I’m so worried that she’s already… already dead,” More tears slipped down her face. Ed was going to lean forward to put a hand on her shoulder when the office door was opened. A tall, balding man with a large beard stepped out, holding a folder. Ed recognized him. Some officer working in Investigations. Was it Captain… Assborough?

“Oh, hi, Captain,” Ed said casually, crossing his arms.

The man narrowed his eyes at him. “Major Elric? There shouldn’t be any need for you to be in here.”

“It’s alright, Captain Ashbarrow. We were just having a conversation,” Mrs. Kildare said, sniffing and giving the captain a small smile.

 _Ashbarrow_. That made more sense. “Yeah, and I was just fixing to leave,” Ed said. He turned back to Mrs. Kildare. “Take care of yourself, alright? I’m sure she’s okay. Don’t lose hope.”

“Thank you, Edward. Make sure to stay safe,” Mrs. Kildare said to him kindly.

“I will,” Ed replied. He smiled at her and waved before walking out of the room, feeling Captain Ashbarrow eyeing him suspiciously.

God. If that wasn’t disheartening, Ed didn’t know what was. He shook his head as he set out across the hall again, making towards the office he knew all too well. He paused for a moment before he knocked on the door to the shared office and walked in. All of Mustang’s subordinates were sitting at their desks, hard at work, unlike the last time he’d been in there. He could hear static from the radio Fuery was hunched over and Breda and Falman discussing something.

“Hey, chief, back already?” Havoc said with a grin.

Ed smiled back at him. Hawkeye looked up from where she sat, bent over a neat stack of papers. “Hello, Edward. You can go in. He’s been expecting you.”

Ed’s expression soured. “Great.” He walked quickly past the busy group of soldiers and brusquely opened the door to Mustang’s office. Unlike last time, he was at full energy and ready to deal with the colonel. The bastard was examining a wash of papers on his desk, bright light streaming into the room from the windows behind him. He looked up as Ed opened and shut the door loudly. “Fullmetal. I was beginning to wonder if you’d show. Where’s Alphonse?”

“He’s at the library. I told him this would be quick,” Ed said pointedly. “And I don’t get why I had to come here in the first place. Could’ve just talked over the phone,” He walked over to one of the couches and dropped down into the cushions.

“Just keeping tabs. And I don’t trust your assessment of your own condition,” Mustang said. “Consider me surprised. It looks like you were actually being truthful. You do look better.”

Ed sighed, although he knew he did. He felt better, too. His gunshot wound had also completely healed and in just the last week, he’d slept better in the longest time he could remember. Ed couldn’t believe it himself. Just three appointments with Merrick had given him such a quick turnaround. “Well, great. I’m here. You’re looking at me. Can I go now?”

“Not just yet. So Doctor Merrick’s appointments were beneficial?” Mustang asked.

“Yeah. Guess they were.”

“I told you. Glad I could be helpful,” Mustang said, leaning back in his chair. There was that infuriating… gleam in his eyes.

“I’m _not_ saying that you…” Ed scowled. “ _You_ didn’t help me, Doctor Merrick did. You just handed me a business card.”

“I ordered you to go see him, so by extension, I helped you,” Mustang said logically.

Ed laced his arms tightly together, glowering, eyes scanning the colonel’s desk. There was a row of books sitting on the edge of the desk, nestled next to a neat stack of papers. An embellished metallic paperweight resembling a triangle with rounded edges rested on the stack of papers. Ed recognized it immediately as the alchemic symbol for fire. Something about it irritated him for some reason. It looked tacky. “So what, now I owe you?” He asked crossly.

“Maybe. Guess I’ll just keep it in my back pocket,” Mustang said smugly.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure I’d prefer some nightmares over being in your debt.”

“Too late for that. If I’m being honest, I’m just surprised you went along. Thought you might end up giving poor Doctor Merrick a broken nose or destroy his house.”

“I was close a few times.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Mustang paused. “Your last report was adequate. And I’m putting you back on active duty next week, after your last appointment. I have a new lead for you. You can come back for your next assignment on Wednesday.”

Ed sat forward. “ _Finally_. I’ve been trapped in this stupid city for ages.”

“It’s been two weeks,” The colonel said dryly.

“Exactly. Torture. This one’d better be exciting,” Ed said.

“Nope. Not after what you pulled after your last assignment.

“Oh, come _on_ ,” Ed said, raising his head towards the ceiling. “How long are you going to punish me?”

“It’s not up for debate. You’re going to have to show me first you’re not going to get yourself almost killed every time I send you off.”

“Look, it was just the last two!” Ed said. He could feel his voice raising, but he didn’t care. Colonel Jackass was probably just saying this to get on his damn nerves, like usual. “I’ll be careful on this one.”

“I doubt that, for some reason. Hmm. Maybe after your last meeting with Doctor Merrick I should send you to a scientist so they can study the reason behind your abnormally—”

Ed wasn’t even going to let him finish that one. “Snap your fingers and flame yourself, you jerk,” He growled under his breath, stare murderous.

Mustang leaned back in his chair lazily, a self-satisfied smirk pulling at his stupid lips. “I think that’s all I need from you today, Fullmetal.”

Ed jumped to his feet, jaw still set. “Great. You just called me down here to insult me, didn’t you? Blow off a little steam?”

Mustang shrugged nonchalantly.

The irritation hissing in the back of Ed’s head like fuzzy radio noise kicked up a few decibels. He promptly stepped forward and fixed his eyes on the paperweight again. He leaned forward and snatched it up quickly, gripping the hard metal in his fingers.

Mustang watched him disdainfully. “Put that back.”

“No, I think I’ll take this with me.”

“Why are you trying to steal from me again?”

Ed shrugged and stepped back, tossing it into the air and slipping it into his pocket. “‘Cause this is ugly. I’m doing you a favor. You need to develop a more discerning taste in office decor.” And spite, mostly.

“It was a gift from a friend.”

“You need some new friends.”

Mustang looked at the smug expression on his subordinate’s face for a few moments and finally waved him off, apparently deciding that getting into a quarrel over an office knick knack wasn’t worth it.

Ed patted the stolen object in his pocket with satisfaction and turned to leave. He was almost at the door when he hesitated and turned around to face the colonel again. “Has there been any progress on those kidnapping cases?”

There was muted surprise in Mustang’s eyes. “No. There hasn’t been. Not yet. Why do you ask?”

The wonders of the Amestrian military. “It’s nothing. It’s just… there was a woman outside Investigations. She was upset because her daughter went missing last night.”

“The case is still high priority. And still not your responsibility. You’re not going on any late night excursions, are you? Because I told you—” 

Ed looked away. “Yeah, yeah. ’m not. Just curious.” He turned around and walked back out the door before the colonel could respond.

* * *

Had the world gone upside down?

She couldn’t remember it ever looking like this. The cavernous dark ground beneath her was twisting into unrecognizable shapes. She had to be laying directly on the night sky. The air was a kaleidoscope of oppressively vivid smells and colors. It smelled almost like a barn—was that straw in her nose? The stench of an unwashed animal? She thought she could hear a soft lowing in the distance, but she didn’t trust any of her senses at the moment. She wasn’t even sure if she was meant to be awake to experience any of this.

There was now a clattering sound next to her ear, she knew that. It was echoing around in her skull like a baby rattle. A lumbering presence was close to her. She also knew that. And she knew what it was. That might’ve been the only thing she was completely certain of.

The echoing clattering sound was gone and she felt steady hands lifting her up. Her body was leaning into someone else’s. She wanted to move, to say something, but that was out of the question. Every muscle in her body was frozen in place, malleable to his will. They were moving through the hazy air, and she melted into the solid warmth underneath her body.

When she woke again, it was colder. Her body still felt sluggish. Her mind was in slow motion, the world still a patchwork of sensations. Ice on her arms and legs and under her feet, acid in her nose, something coarse in her mouth, suffocating her. That presence was still there. As her eyes shivered open, she could see his outline. Everything her eyes fell on was still blurred, still wrapped in layers of confusion. There were syrupy words close to her ears, close enough to feel on her tongue.

The words were nothing but meaningless vowels and hissing consonants until two persistent syllables cut through the fog far enough for her to comprehend: _Edward_.


	4. Hunter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> Descriptions of violence/gore, disturbing imagery

It was raining the night of their final appointment.

The late November air was frigid. Ed came inside soaked from the downfall, clothes dripping, as he, in typical Edward Elric fashion, hadn’t had the foresight to bring an umbrella or a raincoat with him. Merrick got him a towel after he walked in, which he was grateful for.

Last one. Just one more hour and then it was smooth sailing until his next mission that Thursday. He’d been set back long enough. He was itching to get going, to investigate the stone again.

Ed hated to admit it, but it wasn’t just the medication he’d been prescribed that had helped his sleep and his overall state, like he kept insisting to Al. It was the stupid goddamn therapy. Merrick, as it turned out, wasn’t a total rich asshole, and actually knew what he was doing. He supposed decades of study and experience did mean something. Merrick was smart. His wit was sharp, although it was hard to tell at first. It took a while, but Ed had ended up telling him almost everything that'd happened in the last years, every negative thought he’d had because of it. Merrick helped him connect exactly how those things might have affected him and how to deal with problems that might arise from them in the future. Telling him these things didn’t make him nervous or angry like he’d thought it would. It was… freeing. To bounce the thoughts he’d kept locked away for so long off on someone else. It also certainly helped that Merrick legally couldn't talk to anyone else about what Ed told him.

The most annoying thing about all of this was that Mustang had been right. It had been exactly what he needed. Not that he was going to to let him know of that.

The appointment was done quickly. Their talk was… enjoyable. Ed still hated to admit that to himself. His pride was already in pieces at his feet at this point, beaten to death at his own hand.

“Do you have any anger or any other negative emotions towards your teacher for treating you how she did when you were under her guidance?”

Ed leaned his head against the heel of his hand. He could feel the ugly paperweight he’d stolen from Mustang out of spite shift in his pocket. He’d been running late and pulled on the coat he’d worn to Mustang’s office that day, neglecting to remember the paperweight was still where he’d stashed it. He was still deciding what he wanted to turn it into. A bust of his head? Or maybe the Fuhrer’s? There were so many options.

He and Merrick had been discussing his extensive history with Izumi for a long time. It was frankly exhausting but… admittedly nice to hear Merrick’s thoughts on their relationship. “No. I don’t think so. Not anymore. I definitely did when I was younger. But I just didn’t understand. My teacher was just very… unusual in how she instructed us. Her methods aren’t for everyone, but it worked for Al and I. It really hurt while she was still teaching us, but I know for a fact I wouldn’t be where I am right now if it wasn’t for her guidance. I wouldn’t last two seconds against most of the people I end up facing against if not for her.”

“I’m glad to hear that. She sounds like an incredible woman.”

“Yeah, and she packs a mean punch too. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to beat her in hand-to-hand.”

Merrick closed his notebook and leaned back. He was wearing yet another one of his neat, elegant suits that probably cost as much as a year of Ed’s automail maintenance. This one was navy blue with a white ascot. Ed mirrored the doctor’s position, pressing into the back of his armchair. He twisted around in his chair up at the clock on the wall behind him and blanched. “We’ve been talking for almost two hours,” He said in disbelief. He would’ve guessed a little less than an hour.

“We have,” Merrick said. “I didn’t want to end just yet. We have just come to a stopping place, however. I hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s fine. I’ve just been rambling on for ages now,” Ed scoffed. “You should’ve stopped me when I went on too long.”

“You haven’t been rambling, Edward. You’ve been talking about important events that have impacted your life and shaped you into the person you are right now.”

“Right. Yeah,” Ed’s eyes shifted to the roaring fireplace. He could hear the rain still pounding on the window panes behind him. “So… are we really at the end?”

“We are,” Merrick said with a smile. “You made it. How do you feel?”

Ed returned his smile. “Great. I haven’t felt this energetic in weeks, and I’m finally leaving for a new assignment this week.” He paused. “Thanks to you.”

“Oh, don’t thank me, Ed. All of the progress and recovery you made was because of yourself. I only guided you.”

Ed snorted ungracefully. “You’re being too generous. I’d still be a nervous wreck right now if not for you. So… thank you.”

Merrick smiled again. “I appreciate it, Edward. I hope you remember all the things we talked about and heed my advice for the future.”

“Yeah,” The flames in the fireplace snapped. “Take your own advice, attend to your needs, let yourself off the hook.” God, a few weeks ago, he would’ve promptly stuck his head into the fireplace after saying something like that.

“Exactly. I’m glad you’ve remembered.”

“I won’t forget,” He said, although he wasn’t quite certain about that. He would… try. He really would. He didn’t want to end up in this position again. Ed got to his feet and stretched out his stiff arm. They’d been sitting for a long time now.

Merrick followed suit. “Will there be a car coming to collect you?”

“Yeah. Think a cab’s being sent over like last time,” Ed said. He started walking to the door, glancing at the window. “Damn. It’s still pouring out there.” He looked around as he paused to stand in the hallway. “Is Lenore here?” He asked.

“No, she went home already,” Merrick replied. “I was wondering…”

Ed looked up at him.

“Would you be interested in staying for dinner until the storm lightens up?” Merrick asked. He gestured to the nearby room. “I have some leftover dishes from a previous meal and I would love to continue speaking.”

Ed looked from him to the rain pelting against the window down the hall. Now that he mentioned it, his stomach was growling. It was almost six. He could afford to stick around another half hour or so until the storm tapered off. Truthfully, he would also enjoy speaking more with Merrick. His driver would be annoyed, but they were also probably sent from Mustang, so that was just an added bonus. Al would also worry, but he wouldn’t be too long. “Sure, why not. I’m starving. You a good cook?” He asked.

Merrick smiled at him. “I think you’re in for a surprise.”

* * *

“You weren’t lying,” Ed said, looking down at the table with excitement. “Seriously, how did you whip all of this out so quickly? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a professional chef.”

The ornate table in front of him was filled with steaming plates of food. It smelled mouthwatering. The large, polished, oval shaped table only had places set at the far end, where Ed and Merrick were both seated. The tablecloth, utensils, dishes, and napkins looked expensive and the decorating on the table was refined and elegant. Of course. Ed was far from surprised. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if the man had twenty-four karat toilet seats.

“You flatter me. I’ll admit I wasn’t anticipating on having any guests over tonight,” Merrick said with a smile. He had a knife and was currently cutting the turkey. “I prepared these dishes myself just a day ago. I was planning on using them for another meal, but I think they’re more than appropriate for our celebration for tonight.”

Ed scoffed. “No way. From this spread, I would’ve thought you’d been preparing for months. I almost feel guilty having all of this to myself. And what do you mean by celebration?” He asked curiously.

“I enjoy having guests over for dinner, so I often prepare dishes beforehand. It’s one of my favorite hobbies. Sharing food and fellowship with others is one of the most joyous activities a person can participate in. And I thought that would be obvious!” His smile brightened. “Celebrating our last appointment! I’m very proud of the progress you’ve made, Edward. You should be proud of yourself.”

Ed stared at him, then looked away diffidently. “Aw, jeez, you’re giving me too much credit.” But inwardly, he felt warm. If anyone else told him something like that, he would’ve told them to fuck off. But the way Merrick said it, he sounded so… sincere. Like he really was proud. It felt nice to have someone say they were proud of him. Almost like a father.

Ed mentally shook himself and drop-kicked that thought off a cliff. Too far. Way too far.

“I can assure I’m not,” Merrick said, eyes crinkling warmly. “Your rapid headway shows what a unique patient you’ve been. I’m honored to have had the opportunity to speak with you. I wasn’t sure how this would go from the first time we met, but I’m so glad I’ve been of help to you. Would you like some turkey?” He asked, gesturing to Ed’s plate. Ed nodded, face lit up with excitement. Warm roast and vegetables was one of his favorite meals, especially on a cold night like this. Nothing hit quite like it. He could remember his mother making a similar dish in his childhood.

Merrick loaded up Ed’s plate, and they were soon eating and talking through the evening. Merrick asked him if he wanted some wine, and Ed said yes, mostly because he couldn’t remember trying it before. He didn’t know the first thing about alcohol, but it looked fancy enough. Ed felt more at ease than he had felt in weeks. Something about eating a warm, home cooked meal while talking with someone he felt actually understood him made him just… happy. Their topics of conversation ranged from theories of the creation of the world and alchemy texts, something which Merrick was surprisingly knowledgable about, to a few details about Merrick’s life. He had grown up in a town only a few hours away from Resembool. Apparently, his parents died when he was young and he grew up living with his uncle in a cramped apartment. He understood what it was like to have no parents. He worked hard to save up enough money to head to medical school at eighteen in Central and spent twelve years in study before he relocated to East City. All of his money was evidently self-made, which made Ed respect him more.

An hour slipped away. Ed barely noticed.

“You know…” Ed cleared his throat as he pushed his empty plate away from the setting. His head was buzzing slightly from the alcohol. It tasted like ass, but he managed to get down half the glass. “I was thinking. I think… it might be…” He looked at the table, trying to swallow the insurmountably huge lump in his throat. “Al and I were talking, and it might be smart if we… maybe had more meetings after this one.”

Merrick’s looked surprised. “Ed, I am so honored that you’re open to possibly scheduling more appointments in the future. I applaud you for letting me know.” He took a sip of his wine. “I would be more than happy to meet with you in the future. You are free to ask for an appointment whenever you’d like. And not just limiting it to appointments… whatever you need. I’ll always be here in my office, ready to lend a hand,” He said with a smile.

If someone had told Ed that he would be going to see a psychiatrist, eating dinner at their house, and then asking to have more appointments in the future, he would never have believed them. But Hollis was… different. A grudging respect had quickly turned into something more. It was almost… comforting to know that there was going to be someone he could go to for… _help_ (goddammit) if (when) he had trouble with night terrors and all the bullshit that came with it again. “Yeah. Thanks,” Ed managed to get out. S _mooth._

“Would you care to stay for desert?” Hollis asked. Grateful that was over, Ed had finally put down his fork and was stretching in his chair, stomach practically bursting. However, the mention of desert made him decide he could fit in more.

“Hell yeah I do,” Ed said with a grin. “What’s on the menu?”

“I have around half of a chocolate cake leftover. How does that sound? I made it myself,” Merrick replied.

“Couldn’t think of anything better,” Ed could already taste it. Did the man somehow know all of his favorite foods?

“I’ll have it ready shortly,” He said, starting to clear some dishes off the table.

Ed stood. “Think I need to take a leak first. Is there a restroom nearby?”

“There’s one down the hall, third door on the left, and one upstairs as well, second on the right” Merrick said with a chuckle, nodding his head to the door. “Feel free to use either.”

“Thanks,” Ed said, smiling back. Merrick gave him one last warm look before he stacked all of the dishes in his arms and walked to the kitchen.

Ed walked out of the room and into the hallway, resting a hand on his bloated stomach. That was the most he’d eaten in a long, long time. It felt weird but… nice. His body definitely felt sluggish from the wine, which was a little embarrassing. Was he really that much of a lightweight?

He walked down the hall and decided to head upstairs, mostly out of curiosity. He hadn’t seen any more of the house than the bottom floor. Maybe he’d find Merrick’s undoubtedly giant private library. Rain pattered softly against the roof as he made his way up the sweeping staircase, hand running along the smooth balcony. The stairs led to a huge landing that looked over the entrance to the house, a sophisticated sitting room, and a long, wide, gently lit hallway. Ed made his way down the polished, creaking hallway. A large, round window at the end of the hall cast shadows at the edges of the doors, stretching dark silhouettes across the floor. The hall split into two at the end.

 _Rich people_. Ed would never understand why one person needed so much to themselves. It seemed lonely. Maybe making an assload of money made your tastes in real estate change. He suddenly paused, trying to remember which room Merrick had mentioned. Had it been the third on the left? Or second? Or had it been the right? He was at the end of the hall now. Ed looked back, shrugged, and pulled open the closest door, the last door on the left. He peeked his head in and his brows raised as he was greeted by the sight of a vaulted ceiling and an obscenely large, decadently decorated bedroom.

Ed leaned back and took a quick look back into the hallway.

It was silent and still.

… It wouldn’t be weird if he just took one quick look, right? Merrick wouldn’t know. Ed couldn’t deny that he was curious about him. As much as they’d talked, it seemed he didn’t know much about the doctor except bare bones.

Ed stepped forward onto the plush carpeting, swung the door to a crack behind him, and looked around the room, brows still lifted with amazement. A tall lamp by the bed irradiated the room with a bright, warm light. A neatly made canopied four-poster bed covered with a velvet bedspread sat in the center of the room, near a dark, embellished fireplace. Rich drapes covered the window and a glass chandelier hung from the ceiling. Gilded framed art adorned the walls and upholstered chairs and polished furniture were placed neatly throughout the room. Ed could see a large roll top desk and a bookshelf positioned next to an adjoining room.

He walked to the desk and glanced up at the bookshelf, which was stuffed to the teeth with thick, academic books. The desk was scattered with even more books and a pad of paper, which looked like a sketchpad upon further inspection. Ed went to stand in front of it and put a hand on the corner of the stack. The top page was a detailed sketch of an idyllic cottage in a forest. The scene reminded Ed of the painting hung in the office where they met—the one where he’d recognized the woman who looked like his mother. He flipped the sketchpad to the next pages. They were all penciled sketches of picturesque scenes: a fluffy cat curled up on a fountain, a setting sun on the waves of an ocean, two birds sitting atop a tree over a field of flowers. There were a few empty pages, and then the next were sketches of people, mostly children. Ed was about to close the notepad, starting to feel a little guilty at being so intrusive, when the next page caught his attention. It was a more detailed drawing of a teenage girl with dark eyes and shoulder length, pale hair, holding what looked like a paper bag of groceries. He narrowed his eyes at the sketch. Ed recognized her. Where had he seen her before?

He turned the page. It was more sketches of that girl, as well as some other girl he also vaguely recognized. There were a few small scribbled words on the pages. Ed leaned forward and squinted to read them. His gut dropped.

 _Daphne._ And nearby, _Isidora_.

Ed’s head snapped back with surprise as he recognized the faces. He’d seen them and a dozen other similarly missing children staring at him on missing posters on lamp posts, on the sides of trains, hung on the walls of Eastern Command. Why was Merrick drawing pictures of the kidnapping victims? It seemed a bit… morbid. Especially after speaking to a tearful, despairing Mrs. Kildare just a few days earlier, sitting dejectedly in an uncomfortable waiting chair at HQ.

Ed flipped to the next pages with an uncomfortable dread settling in his stomach. It was more pictures of those children. It felt wrong somehow to be looking at drawings of them. Inappropriate. The dread in his stomach twisted as he flipped to the next page. It was filled with detailed sketches of _him_. Sitting on the familiar overstuffed chair he used during their appointments, speaking, making various expressions. The next page was more sketches of him. In one of them, he was bare-chested and making a… lurid expression. _Oh, god_. Just seeing that felt like a sucker punch to his gut. His stomach sank lower as he flipped to the next pages. More children. Another child making a similarly disgusting expression. Daphne again. There were a few more blank pages, and then the next one made his breath hitch in his throat.

It was a human body, butchered and destroyed almost beyond recognition, drawn in sickening detail. The exposed jaw of the person was snapped into two pieces, head bent at an unnatural angle. There was only a flaccid stump where the tongue should have been. Smaller sketches of various mutilated body parts littered the page. Ed flipped it in slow motion and immediately wished he hadn’t. It was Daphne Kildare, completely naked, still in sickening, obscene detail, body covered in bruises and blood, face lit up with terror. The left half of the page was covered in drawings of her facial expressions, all of them twisted in disgust and horror and pain. The page tore as Ed’s hand flew to his mouth and he stepped back from the page, head buzzing, stomach roiling. What the _fuck_. What the actual _fuck_.

His hands were shaking as he reached back over to the sketchpad and slammed it shut, quickly, feeling like it was contaminating him by just touching it. He backed up until he ran against the edge of Merrick’s bed, hand still clenched over his mouth. He jumped away from it and stood in place, frozen.

His mind was reeling, racing at a million miles an hour. The fogginess in his head from the wine was gone, replaced by crystal clear, ice cold fear. He didn’t want to think about why that was in Merrick’s bedroom, why he was drawing pictures of mutilated dead children. Why the hell would he draw that? It contradicted everything he knew about the kind man downstairs who had cooked him dinner. But why else would he draw that unless… unless _he_ was the kidnapper? It was him. It had to be. He’d kidnapped and murdered all of those children. In disgusting ways. And then he’d gone back and _drawn_ it.

 _Shit_. The fucker had been ten feet away from him for two weeks and he hadn’t suspected a thing. He’d respected him, he’d _trusted_ him. He was an idiot. A fucking idiot.

And he didn’t have time to process everything he’d just seen. He had to get out that room. _Now_. It felt like he was going to suffocate 

Ed stumbled to the entrance of the room and swung open the door, shutting it behind him quietly. He listened tensely and tilted his head in confusion as he heard quiet music coming from downstairs. Was that… a piano? It sounded clear, like it was being played live, not from a staticky phonograph or radio. He remembered passing by a polished grand piano on the way to his appointments. Was Merrick playing it? Wasn’t he still in the kitchen? There was no way the doctor could’ve know he’d found those drawings, Ed reminded himself.

That didn’t stop the icy dread from twisting uncomfortably in his stomach. The music grew louder as Ed slowly crept up closer down the hall to the top of the staircase. The piece being played sounded complex and melodic. Ed thought he recognized it, but he couldn’t place where he’d heard it before. His stomach heaved as he smelled the roasted turkey and vegetables wafting up from the dining room. He crept down the stairs, wincing as they creaked noisily under his feet. His heart was pounding steadily in his chest.

He stepped cautiously off the staircase, relieved most of the floor was taken up by plush carpet that would soften his steps. The piano suddenly stopped as he stepped forward, and he froze. The silence was deafening. He managed to bully himself into moving again, and he walked towards the foyer. Ed was creeping closer to the doorway when he heard Merrick’s voice behind him.

“Edward! There you are. I was wondering if you had gotten lost upstairs.”

Ed jumped and turned around, feeling a cold sweat break out on his neck. The man was standing less than a dozen feet away. How the hell did he not hear him? He forced himself to smile, resisting the urge to break into a sprint towards the door. He needed to be careful about this. The man was smiling kindly at him, but his stomach was churning like a washing machine, seeing only those revolting drawings.

Or… maybe those drawings were just a particularly morbid hobby of his. It was possible. Ed wanted to believe that. But either way, it didn’t matter. He knew he had to get the hell away from Merrick. He didn’t want to be anywhere near someone who would draw something like that. Who would draw _that_ picture of him.

“I was just about to cut the cake and I was playing while I waited. I hope you don’t mind. I’m particularly fond of the recipe for this cake. I think you’ll enjoy it,” Merrick looked confused when he noticed Ed had been walking to the door “Oh, were you leaving?”

Ed laughed, sounding nervous in his own ears. “Uh… yeah, actually. It’s getting kind of late and I think my brother will worry if I stay out any longer. So…I’m just gonna go.”

Merrick stepped closer to him, his expression concerned at Ed’s obvious change in mood. Ed’s instincts were screaming at him to run away as fast as possible, but something about Merrick’s face was keeping him frozen in place. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” He said. “That’s fine, of course, but it’s still raining outside. Are you sure you want to try to head back in this weather?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll just hail a taxi or something,” Ed said awkwardly. Merrick was somehow making him feel guilty for even suspecting that he was that kidnapper. He was standing only a few feet away now. 

It took Ed a moment to notice, but the doctor’s expression had changed in an instant. Before it had been pleasant, but now it was darker, more intense, almost. It didn’t look like something that belonged on the face of the man he had come to know. He thought he’d known. Merrick’s lips twitched up into what should have been a smile. It sent a shiver down Ed’s spine. “Doctor…?” Ed said uncertainly, taking a step back, readying to break into a sprint.

Nothing could have prepared him for when Merrick suddenly rushed forward and plunged a blade into his throat. 

Ed gasped in shock and stumbled backwards, clutching at his neck. He could feel thick, sticky blood gushing from the wound. _Shit shit shit shit what the fuck what the fuck—_

He couldn't react. His thoughts were going too fast. His desperate breathing was ratcheting quicker and quicker. He doubled over, limbs suddenly weak and numb with panic. Merrick walked over to him in two quick strides and gripped his neck, lifting him up and slamming him against the nearby wall with brutally surprising strength. Ed could distantly hear the hung decorations thump against the wall. One of them crashed to the ground and there was the sound of shattering glass. He felt the paperweight in his pocket tumble out and fall against the wall.

Merrick was inches from his face. His grip shifted to clutch the collar of Ed’s jacket as he brought up his other hand to yank the blade out from his neck. 

Ed let out a gargling scream, feeling more blood rushing down his neck. He felt the man’s rough hands clutch around his burning neck and hurl him back down to the ground. 

The ground rushed up to meet Ed as he landed on his back, hard. He was gagging, grasping at his throat, heels digging into the carpet. Blood was leaking out of his mouth. The deafening ringing in his ears eclipsed all his other senses. He wanted to curl in on himself Merrick walked over to him and dropped down to his knees, straddling him. Ed could feel a suffocating weight pressing around him. 

He stared up at Merrick, struggling, choking, straining to form words, to ask _what the fuck was going on_ , but he couldn’t seem to get his panicked brain to comply. All that was coming out was garbled nonsense.

“ _Shhh_ …” Merrick murmured, squeezing down his hands painfully on either side of Ed’s face, crushing his head against the floor. Fingers brushed Ed’s bangs out of his eyes. Merrick leaned his head down, his face almost touching Ed’s. 

Ed looked up at Merrick through half-lidded, frantic eyes, his face twisted with pain. He could feel the man’s warm breath. The doctor’s eyes were wide open, drinking in Ed’s expression.

Ed kicked out at the man’s legs and tried to push himself up. He managed to flail his automail arm up and his hand found purchase on Merrick’s jaw. He grunted, but wasn’t fazed. His hands quickly slid to Ed’s throat again and he started squeezing. Ed let out a strangled cry of pain, going rigid. He could feel fingers digging into his wound and crushing his windpipe. Just as his eyes were rolling into the back of his head and he could feel he was about to slip from consciousness, the fingers were loosened and Ed gasped in painful air, convulsing. 

The bruising hands were back on his face. Something heavy was suddenly brought down on his head at a crushing velocity, and his vision went black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That cliffhanger is brutal oh my god I’m sorry.  
> Just a heads up—I’m going to be uploading chapters one at a time instead of two from now on :) See ya this Friday, friends <33


	5. Vertebrae by Vertebrae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> Graphic descriptions of violence/gore, disturbing imagery, torture, vomiting, intrusive thoughts, panic attack, threatening/abusive language. This chapter is intense and dark, so please skip over any parts you need to.

It was almost eight o’clock when the phone rang.

Roy paused as he stretched his sore shoulders back, glaring down at the phone. It had been a long day. Meeting after meeting had kept him from finishing the majority of his work until the worst of the storm outside had tapered off and the night had long since been dark. All of his subordinates had been sent home already. He was finally about to pack up and now someone was calling his office late at night. Naturally.

He reached forward and lifted up the phone, pressing his chin against the receiver and leaning it against his shoulder. “This is Mustang,” He all but grumbled, wiping a hand at his eye.

“Oh, hi colonel! I’m glad I got the number right,” A tinny voice rung out.

“Alphonse?” Roy said with surprise.

“Yes, it’s me,” He replied. “I’m sorry to be calling so late. I wasn’t sure if you’d still be in. I just wanted to call and make sure.”

“Is something wrong?” Roy leaned against the table, brow furrowed. The kid sounded antsy.

“Well, not really, it’s just…” He was hesitant. “It’s Ed. He never came home after his appointment a few hours ago. I was wondering if he came to Headquarters.”

Of course Ed ignored his direct order not to go past the citywide curfew. Of course he did. “No, he hasn’t been here,” He replied fatly.

“Oh. I wanted to go look for him, but it’s been raining so hard all night I didn’t want to go out.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Alphonse,” Roy stifled a yawn. “No need to worry. He probably ducked out of the rain somewhere.”

“Yeah, I know. I just don’t… I have a bad feeling. With everything that’s going on right now.” Al sounded worried.

Roy sighed in resignation. He understood Al’s concern.

It was already late. He could afford to drive ten minutes out of the way to help settle the kid’s mind. “So he was at Doctor Merrick’s house last?”

“Yes, he was,” Al said.

“It’s not far from my apartment. I’ll swing by on the way home and see if he knows where Fullmetal wandered off to.”

“Oh, thank you, colonel!” Al sounded relieved. “Sorry to cause any trouble.”

“It’s fine, Alphonse. I’ll give you a call when I’m finished,” Roy replied tiredly.

“Thank you again, colonel! I’ll be waiting,” Alphonse said.

“Sure. Talk to you in a little bit,” Roy said, and slammed the phone down. _Goddammit_. Stupid kid. He had told him multiple times not to go off wandering by himself after dark. Wasn’t that just common fucking sense, with the entire city on lockdown because of a serial kidnapper?

He supposed Ed had never really been one for common sense. And he had probably phrased it more as a suggestion than an outright order. That didn’t change the fact that he was pissed. Ed was probably halfway across the city, playing poker in some tavern, ignoring curfew and worrying his poor brother for no reason.

Roy reached back over and started organizing his desk, pulling papers into piles and pushing folders across the surface, listening to the soft rain pattering against the icy windows behind his desk. He was looking forward to when he could finally throw himself into his bed and pass out for the night.

* * *

The first thing Ed was aware of was the pain. 

His body was submerged in it. It was a herculean effort just dragging himself back to consciousness. His eyes flickered open, and his throbbing head was shot through with more pain as he perceived the dim light around him.

He groaned and shivered as he slowly tried to haul up his aching body, but he found he couldn’t. There was something cold and solid digging into his legs and arms, keeping him down. His blood felt like sludge in his veins.

One of the first things that struck him was the rancid stench. His eyes were stinging from the reek of acrid chemicals and just… _death_. That was the only word he could use to describe it. Something, or multiple somethings had rotted and decayed in there. He could sense it as well as he could smell it. His stomach was turning over before he was fully aware of where he was.

Suddenly, Ed could sense the blood sitting in his mouth. He gagged and dragged his head forward, managing to pull his lips apart and spit an alarming amount of blood straight onto his chest. He squinted down at his arms and saw he was seated in a metal chair, his forearms and wrists chained down painfully tightly to its arms. When he tried to shift his legs, he found they were in a similar position. His limbs felt numb and deadened. And were the legs of the chair… bolted to the floor?

Perfect. Just fucking _perfect_.

His eyes opened wider when he realized his chest was bare. No wonder he was so fucking cold. Where the hell were his shirt and jacket? He registered that he could feel the cold concrete of the floor under his right foot, and he realized that his shoes were gone, too. He could also feel his tangled hair loose around his shoulders, not in the ponytail he knew he had pulled it into that morning. Ed started shaking his limbs frantically against the unyielding restraints, ignoring the soreness in his joints. Where was he? What the hell was happening? He couldn’t recall anything. His head was throbbing harder as he tried to remember. He could feel his pulse deep in his throat and he realized suddenly that was where the epicenter of the pain enwrapping him. He could feel a sticky substance caked on all along his throat, as well as his head.

Panic was starting to overtake him. He moved his head up slightly and his eyes flashed around the room in front of him, trying to take in his surroundings. The dingy lighting was making it difficult. He could see he was in some kind of underground room, sitting in the center towards the back of the room. It was somewhat spacious, with tables lining the walls. Ahead of him, he could see a ladder leading out of the room, as well as endless shelves filled with various discolored jars bolted on the walls.

This had to be some kind of sick joke. Literally everything he was looking at was so ominous it was laughable. Ed kept struggling at the chains desperately. They were so damn tight, it felt like he was going to dislocate his wrist if he kept trying. His automail arm was stronger, though. If he could just pull it loose, if he could just fucking _transmute_ …

Suddenly, he heard a voice just out of his center of vision.

Someone else was in the room with him.

“Good evening, Edward.”

Those three words. That was all it took for all of it to come rushing back at once. Ed froze in place and slowly twisted around his head to look at Hollis Merrick, who was leaning against one of the tables. He was still wearing one of his well tailored suits, but now he with a worn apron over it. Ed’s breathing hitched and raised to a fever pitch. He remembered it all now. The drawings, his sudden brutal attack.

That look in his eyes.

Did he seriously… stab him in the fucking _throat_? What the fuck? How the hell was he alive? Ed was beyond certain he should be dead. He had accepted his death in a rushed way as he lay there on the floor, choking on the blood gushing from his own throat, the man’s hands squeezing the life out of him.

“You’re going to hyperventilate if you keep breathing like that,” Merrick’s voice was clinical. “No need to panic. I’m not going to be violent just now.”

“ _Wh_ …” Ed’s throat was in agony. “ _Wha_ …?” He couldn’t choke out anymore. He broke into a series of rasping coughs.

“I would be careful. Your throat just underwent a severe trauma. Straining it too much could cause immense pain.”

Ed shot him a weak glare, wishing he could spit out a retort. Smart remarks were usually an instant thing for him, normally out of his mouth before he had to time to process exactly what bullshit he was saying. Right now, the cogs in his brain were drenched in sticky tar, dragging his thoughts behind at a snail’s pace. He could barely keep up with what was happening. Concussion, no doubt about it. And shock.

“You were stabbed to the the right of your internal carotid artery. Your life isn’t in any danger. However, you have lost around a liter of blood, so I would advise against any sudden movements or speaking too loudly.”

Ed felt numb. His rapid breathing was slowing now that he had a better hold on what was happening around him. His head was so cloudy, nothing happening felt real.

He couldn’t fathom how Merrick had reverted so quickly from a kind, poised doctor, someone he had come to… to _trust_ , to savagely brutalizing him. It seemed at the moment, he was carrying himself with that elegant poise again, though now it looked markedly different to Ed. Now Ed could see that gleam in his faded blue eyes— the gleam that had lit up with glee when he choked him and terrorized him. 

How had Ed not seen it before? The one time he decided to try and let an adult help him. The one _fucking_ time.

Merrick leaned back and crossed his arms. “I was beginning to worry I might have been a little too rough, but it seems I was concerned for nothing. You can certainly take more punishment than the others.” 

Ed cleared his throat weakly, tasting blood. “Why… why did you attack me?” That was about the only coherent question he could form at the moment. He could barely raise his voice above a whisper. 

Merrick gave him a doleful look. “That seems a rather dull question.” He pushed himself off the table and stood in front of Ed, crossing his arms again. Ed’s wary eyes were tracking his every movement. “Dull as it may be, I don’t mind answering it.” The man let out a small exhale of air. “Truthfully, I was a little on the fence with what to do with you. I don’t often have the opportunity of taking on many adolescent clients and I was eager to meet you. From our first encounter, I could sense there was something… unique about you. Distinct from the rabble. Some larger part of myself was begging me to add you to my collection right away. However, one smaller part of myself, perhaps a side more focused on self preservation, prevented me from doing so. Your little escapade into my bedroom merely corroborated that I would be able to do what I’ve been aching to do since we first met. I suppose I was almost planning for it.” His expressions had grown more fervent as he spoke, closer to the ones Ed remembered him making as he attacked him. “Across all of my years of treating and diagnosing patients, I can confidently say that I’ve never met anyone like you. And, thanks to you, I hold a power tonight I’ve never had the pleasure of knowing before. I’m going to enjoy this.”

Ed could feel his eyes were wide. He swallowed hard, struggling not to think too hard about everything the man had just said. “I don’t… Why are you doing this? Did you… did you kidnap Daphne Kildare and those other children?” Images of the drawings of Daphne’s mutilated body flashed across his mind.

Merrick scoffed softly. “Hmm… yes, poor Daphne Kildare. Simply an unfortunate byproduct of my fixation. She was perhaps the most hastily finished.” Silence hung in the air for a few moments. “You just reminded me of one of the most fascinating qualities I’ve discerned about you, Edward. You refer to my other projects as ‘children,’ as if you’re not one yourself. Your refusal to acknowledge your age is as amusing as it is revealing of your inner workings. Constantly confused about how you’re supposed to act: your age, or like an adult with the responsibility you signed up for.”

 _Projects_ … That confirmed it. This was the psycho who had been kidnapping all those missing kids. The last thing he wanted to do was think about the implications of what that meant. Of the situation he was currently in. Of the way this man was talking about him, _looking_ at him. Was he really this unlucky? His entire life sometimes seemed to be one mishap after another, each worse than the last, but this was on a whole other fucking level. He really just so happened to have the psychopath kidnapping children for two decades as his psychiatrist? Was every single person he trusted in his life going to betray him? Was the entire universe just out to get him?

And… had all of this really just been some sick joke to Merrick? He was acting so cold, so detached. All the conversations they’d had… the hard earned bond they’d forged. The overwhelming relief Ed had felt at having his first full night of uninterrupted rest in weeks. The _safety_ he had felt. It was all just… manipulation? Just an elaborate performance? Just for this man’s own sick enjoyment?

 _Fuck_. Ed’s stomach was writhing. All the food he’d eaten earlier felt heavy in his stomach. It was a wonder he hadn’t actually projectile vomited yet. Maybe if he held it in, he could save it for when the sicko was closer to him and make sure to get his puke all over his captor. “Are you going to keep psychoanalyzing me?” Ed finally said hoarsely. “Because it’s getting really old,” His throat was still throbbing in time with his heart.

“You didn’t seem to mind earlier this evening. In fact, if I’m recalling correctly, you thanked me multiple times.”

“Yeah, well, that was before I knew you were a deranged psychopath who kidnaps and murders children.” His voice sputtered to a halt and he coughed roughly, tasting blood in his mouth.

“Why, thank you, Ed. I didn’t know you would think so highly of me.” Merrick replied, his voice mocking. Ed was getting mental whiplash remembering how the man had been speaking to him only a few hours ago.

“You’re avoiding my question,” Ed said, digging his fingernails into the cold metal of the chair. “Why… the _hell_ are you doing this? Why did you…” He cursed how shaky his voice sounded. “Spend all that time with me?” _Make me trust you?_ If he'd been planning this from the start, what the fuck was the point?

Merrick’s expression was still unreadable as he stepped away from his position in front of Ed and walking to the back of the room, examining the ominous walls stacked with jars and containers. Ed tried to concentrate on what he was doing, although focusing too hard on anything was making his head throb.

“You seem to forget your position right now, Edward. I’m allowing you to be a bit more mouthy than the others, but only because you hold a rather special status. I only have so much patience for endless questions.”

If Ed had one talent, it was making others lose their patience. Usually, he would’ve enjoyed antagonizing this lunatic, but this particular situation was feeling a bit too dire for him to be saying anything stupid. Not to mention the undeniable fear worming its way through his chest.

“I’ve seen you glancing back here,” Merrick said, gesturing to the shelves of ominous containers displayed behind him. “Perhaps showing you part of my collection could help clear up any more questions you have.”

 _Collection_? That was the second time he’d mentioned that. Ed leaned his head forward, trying to discern what was in the containers through the dim lighting.

Merrick walked over to the opposite wall, wrapped his hands around a large glass jar, and pulled it off the shelf, walking closer to Ed. He stood in front of him and held it up so Ed could get a closer look.

Ed squinted at it. The glass jar was filled with some murky substance. It took him a moment to notice there were a few other solid objects floating in it. 

_Wait. Was that—_

Ed’s stomach was reeling. He barely managed to throw his head to the side before he hacked his stomach’s contents onto the floor, shaking. 

In the jar, there was a human eyeball, a small intestine and what looked like… an emaciated female breast.

Ed’s arm was covered in bile. The air tasted sour. His head was spinning. Just the sight of that was enough to make him feel like his head and stomach were being bludgeoned with a hammer. For all he knew, that would be happening to him shortly.

Merrick tsked as he watched him with unwavering attention. “I can’t help but find that reaction… disappointing. Somehow, I’d been expecting more.”

Ed gasped in raspy breaths, feeling saliva dripping out of his mouth. He couldn’t find it within him to respond. 

The… _things_ in that murky glass jar. There were dozens and dozens more of those containers on the wall. How many children had he killed? What the hell had he done to them?

And… Daphne Kildare had been kidnapped less than a week ago. She had been down here, possibly just a few dozen feet below where Ed sat for their appointments. Ed felt the inevitable wave of suffocating guilt crashing over him.

“Although, I suppose I could have predicted it. Only four sessions with you have been more than enough to tell me you have one of the strongest moral codes I’ve ever seen in a person.” Merrick withdrew and set the jar back into its place on the shelf. “Well, that or you’re simply clinging onto idealism in the way only a child can. You almost make me wish I could understand the aversion you feel.”

Ed’s head rolled back limply, watching Merrick with glassy eyes. His mind was going to places he didn’t like, thinking about the sketchpad he had found in the man’s office, filled with obsessive drawings of his most recent victims, of _him_ , and the dozens of murky containers stacked on the walls, displayed like a trophy case. Something there reminded him of the charred, half human lump of flesh he had come face to face with after attempting to bring his mother back. And his endless nightmares from the last month.

 _Motherfuck_. His head shot out to his side and he vomited again.

“Nothing I’ve ever found in life has brought me the satisfaction and relief I feel when I’m crushing the life out of someone. Taking them apart, bit by bit, seeing each part displayed. Turning a human being into a pile of objects. And the moments afterwards… waving at a woman and smiling, speaking with her, knowing I killed her son. There is something beautiful about that concerto of silence at a funeral, knowing that you were its cause.” There was a pause. “Knowing just a little about the inner workings of your mind and your history makes ripping you apart and destroying your mind even more exhilarating.”

Ed had heard his fair share of menacing speeches in his life. He should have been numb to them at this point, but this one was making pins and needles prickle up and down his raw skin. He didn’t appreciate how Merrick was talking about him like he was already packaged up in little jars on the wall. Like he was already…a pile of objects. The cold, merciless grip of fear tightened over Ed’s chest as it began to sink in just how unbelievably fucked he was. He was completely incapacitated, at the mercy of an insane serial killer. One who’d evidently been preying on him for weeks.

And absolutely no one knew what had happened.

Ed pulled his head forward with effort. He could feel the bile on his mouth. “Guys like you always think you’re unique or special in some way. But you’re not. I’ve met a dozen other sickos like you, and you’re all exactly the same.” He paused to catch his breath. His voice was still frustratingly soft. He was worried if he tried to talk too loudly, his throat would close up. “I don’t care what you say to me. You’re never gonna break me. Your kind never can,” He spat. It felt good to fight back, to _do_ something, but those words were entirely a facade and they fell flat in the frozen air.

Merrick’s mouth twisted up into a smile. He walked over to one of the nearby tables, his hands scattering across as he looked for something. “Oh, Ed. I find it ironic that you say I have a god complex when you’re the alchemist who attempted to cheat life and create a human being, no matter how well-intentioned it was. I would never presume myself to have such abilities.” There was a pause. “You respond just as I would predict. Lots of big talk and insults and anger. Your most exercised defense mechanism, aside from your alchemy, obviously. It’s all just to hide how absolutely terrified you are right now.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Ed rasped. He twisted his head weakly to the right, trying to figure out what the doctor was doing. 

“Well said.” Merrick had apparently found what he was looking for. He turned around and walked slowly to Ed’s side. He was holding what looked like a rag and a large scalpel. 

Great. Awesome. Of course he was going to torture him. Ed hated to agree with the doctor, but he was scared, plain and simple. Even throughout his extensive, colorful history of getting the absolute shit kicked out of him, he’d never been kidnapped and held like this, let alone tortured. 

“I am not unhinged, Edward. I am many things, but unhinged is not one of them. I am fully aware of what I am doing, and the consequences that these actions have. You know as well as I do that I’m not like the other people you’ve met. I know you. I understand you,” Merrick said in a more gentle voice. He was standing closely now. Ed pushed his torso back as far as he could go, struggling in the chains. Merrick leaned forward and put a hand on Ed’s face, gripping his chin. His ice cold skin was crawling under Merrick’s touch. He flinched and tried to pull away, but the man held him firmly in place. 

“You don’t _fucking_ know me,” Ed snarled around the fingers gripping his jaw in a hoarse whisper. Merrick’s grip tightened as he wiped the vomit off his arm and face, looking straight at Ed the entire time with his pallid, bone colored eyes. “Don’t make a mockery of your intelligence, Ed,” He said in an equally quiet voice. “We both know that’s not true.”

Ed kept his gaze trained on the opposite wall, trying and failing to block out both him and the vertigo turning his entire body inside out. “Did it remind you of her…” Merrick said, eyes unwavering. “The jar? Did the rotten flesh remind you of your mother’s corpse, all those years ago?” He was enunciating his words clearly, studying Ed’s expression. The rag fluttered to the ground.

Ed gasped, his breath racing prestissimo again. His eyes were filled with a delicate balance of unhinged fury and unadulterated terror. The fingers gripped even tighter. Ed’s jaw was going to snap in two. His nails were digging deeply into his skin. “The decaying carcass you’ve seen in your nightmares, over and over and over and over…” He shook Ed’s head down in repetition with his words. Ed’s wild, pain saturated eyes slid over to meet his. Goosebumps were racing up and down every inch of his skin. “Your own mother… you dragged her back to this world just to spit on her name and stuff her into an agonized rotting meat sack and burn her alive. But that wasn’t enough, was it?” Ed couldn’t stop the pathetic whimper that escaped his lips. He tried to look away, but every muscle in his body was frozen in place. “You killed your own mother and then you killed your other flesh and blood too, your _brother_. You condemned him to an unfeeling, steel prison. He’ll never forgive you. He hates you and you know it, deep down, don’t you? Who could blame him? You’re a fucking _monster,_ ” Merrick hissed, his breath hot on Ed’s face. “How did you put it? Someone capable of destroying every person around yourself? Everything you’ve done in these last years… It’s all useless. None of it matters. You speak of nothing but wanting to repay your brother, wanting to undo your mistake. After all of this time, you honestly think there’s a way to restore your brother’s body? Idiocy. Alphonse is a disembodied soul barely hanging on by a thread in this world. There’s no way to save him. It’s too late. It can’t hold. In just a year or two, it will break and he’ll be gone. Forever. And it’s your fucking fault.”

Ed was reeling. It felt like his skin was physically about to peel off of his body. His insides were squirming, climbing up his stomach and throat, trying to take a nose dive out of his mouth. It felt like every ugly demon from his nightmares was inside Merrick, confirming all of his worst fears in real life. Merrick was carrying every fragile secret Ed had that especially had been agonizing him over the last weeks and throwing them back in his face, stuffing them down his throat until he choked, slowly grinding them under his heel.

And he was reveling in it. There was a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. He could barely contain his exhilaration.

Eventually, Merrick released Ed’s face. Ed’s head fell back limply and he looked up at the ceiling, heart and breathing racing with panic, mind wiped startlingly blank from the hysteria. A minute or so dragged by, and he was finally able to come back down and breathe somewhat normally. He lifted his head up again with some effort and saw Merrick still standing there, watching him, holding that scalpel. Wordlessly, he moved back to Ed and turned his focus to his automail arm. There was no warning given as he plunged the scalpel into his shoulder, right where the flesh met his automail arm. Ed hissed in pain. A burning pain worked its way up his arm as the man maneuvered the tip of the scalpel under the metal plates. Apparently, he knew exactly where the most sensitive part of his automail arm was. 

And shit, if this maniac screwed up his arm, Winry was going to kill him. 

Or at least hurl a wrench at his cold corpse, which was looking more likely right then. 

Ed could still feel the man’s eyes boring into him. The last thing he wanted to do was look up and see what Merrick’s expression looked like… _again_. He ground his teeth together and shuddered as the scalpel was pressed further in and dug across more of his flesh. He was fucking exhausted. Couldn’t Merrick at least wait a few more minutes before literally tearing him into shreds, ripping him apart physically as well as psychologically?

Apparently not. Merrick pushed it in further, dragging it across his skin and digging it under the metal of his arm. Ed let out an involuntary cry, his fingers squirming under the tight chains. He jolted as white hot electric shocks coursed through his body, drilling into his teeth. He could taste heavy, coppery blood bubbling up at the back of his throat. The strained nerves on his arm were slowly erupting, like lava was being shot straight into his veins. He didn’t understand exactly what was happening, but he knew it was going to be a miracle if he could get his stupid, useless fucking arm to move an inch after this.

Merrick suddenly looked more frenzied, and then he plunged the scalpel directly into Ed’s chest, deep, and dragged it down to his navel, grinding it into his skin in circles. Ed somehow managed to keep himself from crying out and he threw his head back, his face contorted with pain. His breathing was coming in short, convulsive gasps. Merrick grabbed his bruised face with his other hand in a tight grip and wrenched it forward, forcing Ed to look directly into his eyes. 

There was a deep… hunger in them. He felt like a dissected, dying deer laid out on a rack, being examined by a particularly cruel hunter. It made Ed feel sick. He shivered and screwed his eyes shut. He was so sick of feeling watched.

Merrick slowly pulled out the scalpel from his chest and paused just a moment before his bruising grip on Ed’s tender jaw tightened. Ed’s eyes opened again as he felt the cold metal of the scalpel grinding deeply into his cheek. The man moved the scalpel to his eyebrow, pressing it down even further into his brow bone. He could feel blood rushing down into his eye. The fingers were close to his mouth now.

Ed did the only logical thing at that point: he bit down. Hard, like a rabid dog. He could taste blood in his mouth from the man’s hand. Merrick cursed loudly and quickly pulled away his hand, scraping his knuckles against Ed’s teeth. Ed felt a sense of satisfaction as he watched Merrick lurch back, expression pained. Whatever punishment he was going to get for that would be worth it.

He’d already dug his grave. Might as well go all the way. Ed cleared his throat weakly and spat blood onto the concrete. He wasn’t sure if it was his or Merrick’s. “Damn…” He said, ignoring how thready his voice was. “All that buildup… I was expecting more creative torture methods than that. Guess you’re a traditionalist, huh?”

Merrick didn’t respond. He stepped away and then he was standing in front of him again, holding something new in his hand. His expression wasn’t irritated, like Ed was expecting. Just more fervid, which was worse. _Oh, god, was that a… ?_

Merrick suddenly lifted his hand and slammed a heavy hammer onto Ed’s left hand.

A fucking _hammer_. Ed made fun of his uncreative torture methods, so of course he was going to start bludgeoning him with a blunt object.

There was a bone chilling crack and Ed howled in pain. And again when he brought it down a second time. And a third time. He was losing count of how many times now. Then he was hitting his chest, battering his ribs with the hammer. His howls were closer to sobs now. The white hot agony forced him into unconsciousness for just a few moments. His ribs and the bones in his hand were shattered, no doubt. Merrick knew exactly where to hit him to make this as excruciating as possible. Ed could distantly hear the man was saying something, but it all just sounded like unintelligible vibrations in the air.

He thought Merrick was finally finished until it was slammed down again on his right foot.

Ed let out an agonized sob. His vision whited out a second time as the man hit it again. And again. And again. He could hear bones shattering with a sick _crunch_ , could feel the agonizing vibrations coursing through his body like bolts of lightning. Ed’s head fell forward and he drew in breath through labored gasps, feeling his chest aching in protest. His hair was drenched in sweat, clinging to the nape of his neck.

The hammer clattered to the ground as Merrick leaned over him, pressing his hands on top of Ed’s on the arms of the chair. Ed cried out as he felt the broken bones in his hands being pushed down. “How are you feeling, hmm, Ed?” He said quietly, just close enough for Ed to catch the words.

Ed hated it when he said his name.

Why was he being this cruel to him? _Why_? Why him? He couldn’t begin to wrap his head around it. It made no damn sense. Nothing that was happening to him made any goddamn fucking sense.

Merrick’s hands were on his arms. He was leaning in, way, _way_ too close, eyes still fixated on him. Ed was able to drag his eyes upward just enough to see that disgusting expression. He was almost too faint to feel violated anymore. Almost.

They sat like that for a moment, staring at each other. As Ed looked into Merrick's eyes, he wished he could understand. Understand why the hell this was happening to him. It was all too big and confusing and overwhelming. Ed felt smaller than he had in years. Merrick finally took his hands off of him. Ed’s head fell back again and he distantly wished he had something to lean his throbbing neck against.

Merrick leaned back and stood up again.

“ _Just_ …” Ed panted. Moving his mouth was taking a lot of effort. Merrick leaned his head forward, trying to hear him. Ed swallowed and tried again. “Just how long are you… going to drag this out?” He could hardly hear himself.

Merrick walked back to one of the walls, out of Ed’s line of sight. He heard a faucet turn on. “You’ll be surprised to see just how long I can ‘drag this out’, Fullmetal Alchemist. This is just the opening act.”

Those words sent a cold shot of terror straight into his veins. Ed let his eyes shut. He hoped to god he was going to pass out. Being unconscious sounded a lot more appealing at the moment than being awake for whatever he had planned next.

Suddenly, there was a loud buzzing sound from inside the room. Ed’s eyes blinked open slowly again. There was a soft _thump_ as Merrick untied his apron and set it to the side. He walked back over to Ed and stood behind him. Ed weakly strained to see what he was doing. His head was jerked back as the man pulled a piece of cloth into his mouth and tied it tightly behind his head. Ed moaned in protest. He was already having enough trouble breathing as it was.

“I’ll be back soon,” Merrick muttered. Ed tried to keep his eyes open as the man walked over to the dimly lit set of ladder rungs leading out of the room. He could hear a heavy door creaking open, and he wished he could see where the hell the ladder led off to, but it was out of line of vision. The fact that the man had gagged him told him that he might have been close enough to his house for someone to hear him cry out. 

Or Merrick just wanted to make him suffer in every possible way for no reason other than that he was cruel and sadistic. That seemed more likely after what had just happened.

Now that he was gone, Ed felt some huge weight descend on him. The adrenaline was gone. He felt alone and… fucking terrified. Hysteria was burrowing deeply into his chest, threatening to climb out and send him straight back into panic. There was no way anyone was ever going find him down here; the bastard was too damn good, too damn experienced. He was alone. So fucking alone.

Almost every part of his body ached with an all-consuming, yawning pain. He wanted to pull out of the restraints and run far, far, away where he never had to feel anyone’s hands or eyes on him ever again. His skin still felt like it was burning where the man had been touching him. Something about the way Merrick looked at him shook him right to his core. Ed couldn’t place his finger on exactly what it was. It felt like he’d never be able to unsee his eyes, like they were permanently burned into the back of his head. Ed shook his arms and legs in the bindings, but the pain was unbearable. He let out an anguished sob and stilled again. 

Because what the fuck, honestly? How the fuck did he end up here? Seriously? _Seriously_?

It felt like nothing short of a pronounced _fuck you_ from whatever deity that had it out for him to bite it like this. He had known for years he was already living on borrowed time, and while the thought of dying and leaving behind his baby brother was mind numbingly terrifying, he had hoped his death would at least be dignified. Maybe locked in battle, after giving his all, or at the very least after having restored his brother’s body. Not whatever the fuck this was, buried at the lowest reaches of human depravity, not even leaving behind an identifiable body. Not at fourteen fucking years old.

Not leaving Al’s soul abandoned. His body trapped in endless whiteness, eternal companion of that shadowy asshole, so-called _Truth_.

And Merrick was right. Al was going to die because of him. Because he’d been stupid enough to get lured in and kidnapped by a goddamn serial killer.

There was that loud buzzing sound again, cutting into his pounding head like a chainsaw. The room was saturated with the smell of his acrid sick from earlier and the heady stench of raw iron—his blood, clinging to his body, dripping onto the ground, splattered on the floor. It was all mingled with the other nauseating smells of the room. It was too much. He was going to drown in the overwhelming sensations. Ed felt a tidal wave of darkness wash over him, and he let it take him away.

* * *

Roy leaned back and crossed his arms, unsure what to do. Was it rude to ring the doorbell again? The lights in the mansion were still on. The doctor must still be home. He decided to wait it out another minute or two. He let out a huge yawn, glancing down at his watch. Half past eight o’clock. He just hoped to god the doctor knew where Ed was. He was _not_ going on a late night hunt for the kid, no matter how worried Al sounded, especially not in the freezing rain. He was already wet enough.

Another minute passed. Roy leaned forward and rang the doorbell a third time just before the door was suddenly opened.

Doctor Merrick stood before him, dressed in a long silk robe and slippers. “Colonel Mustang!” He said courteously. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Roy gave him a polite smile. The man looked as gracious as ever, even when being given a house call late at night. He could see a small cut on the man’s jaw. “Good evening, Doctor. I’m sorry to disturb you so late.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” Merrick said warmly. “What brings you over tonight?” He asked. 

“Fullmetal didn’t make it back to his hotel tonight. Alphonse was worried and I said I’d drop by and see if you knew where he went, since this is the last place we know where he was.”

The doctor looked concerned. “Hmm… that certainly is worrying. I haven’t seen him since our final scheduled appointment this evening, which was at four o’clock. It’s just been me here since then. Would you like to come inside? It’s freezing tonight.”

Roy nodded, trying not to show his frustration. Of course he had no clue where Ed was.

He stepped inside and stomped his feet out on the doormat. He looked up at the impressive foyer, surprised once again at the extravagant decorating in the mansion. Usually, this exorbitant type of house would have been much too gaudy for his tastes, but the doctor somehow managed to make it look tasteful.

“Do you recall if he said where he was planning on going?” Roy said as he hung his soaked coat on the rack next to the door.

“Unfortunately, I don’t. I don’t believe he said anything of that nature while he was here. After our appointment, he left at around six thirty. I actually asked if he would prefer to stay inside and wait out the worst of the rainstorm, but he told he would rather not.”

Roy’s brow furrowed. “Did a car pick him up? A cab was sent for him, but he was never seen and the driver left.”

“I didn’t see. I wish I had now,” The man replied with a regretful tone in his voice.

“Don’t worry,” Roy reassured him, although he was frustrated. It looked like this was going to be a dead end. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known he would disappear like this. Did he make any indication he was going somewhere in particular or did he seem at all preoccupied?”

Merrick’s expression furrowed as he thought. “I can’t say he did. Truthfully, I didn’t notice anything off today. He seemed his normal self. His condition has been improved steadily since we first began talking. I wish I could be of more help, colonel. Would you care for a cup of tea?” He added hospitably. 

“No, thank you,” Roy said. “I wish I could, but I need to be going.”

Merrick nodded sadly. “No problem, colonel. I should have made sure he was safe when he left. It seems every child is in danger at the moment, based on what I’ve seen in the news.”

“Yes, and believe me, I’ve tried to drill that into his head,” Roy said grimly. “I’m sure you know even better than I do that Edward isn’t one for listening to instruction.” He paused for a beat. “Is it alright if I use your phone? I need to make a quick call.”

“Of course, anything you need,” Merrick said. He walked down the foyer, gesturing for Roy to follow him. They entered into a large hallway and walked until they were standing in a parlor room. Merrick gestured to a gold encrusted phone sitting on a mirrored table pushed close to the entrance to the room.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” The man said. He stepped out of the room and Roy walked over to the phone. He squinted for a moment as he tried to remember the Elrics’ usual hotel number before he dialed it on the third try and asked for Alphonse. He sounded worried when Roy said he didn’t know where Ed had gone. Al said he would go out and see if he could find out where his brother had gone, and Mustang told him to be careful and not to stay out too late.

He was washing his hands of this for now. If after all of this trouble, Ed was playing pool in some nearby tavern or passed out in the library again, perfectly fine, he was going to snap. Literally.

He hung up the phone and stepped out into the carpeted hallway again. Merrick was nowhere in sight. Roy wanted to leave quickly, but he needed to thank the doctor for his hospitality first.

“Doctor Merrick?” Roy called out. There was no reply. He frowned and walked back down the hall to the foyer, hoping to see the man.

Roy walked back to the hallway, heading back down to the foyer. “Doctor Merrick?” He called out again. He was standing in the entrance room again. As he looked around, his attention was caught by a blanket bunched up against one of the walls at the front of the foyer. He bent down and lifted it up, surprised to see blood stains on the blanket and nearby ground. He set the blanket back in its place and stepped back. There was a soft _crunch_ as something was ground into pieces under his boot. He lifted his foot and saw small pieces of glass on the ground. Roy frowned and looked up at the wall. Some of the portraits hung on the wall were askew. There was a nail on the wall where something had been hung recently but either had been taken off or fallen off.

Definite signs of a struggle. Probably just an accident, but something was wrong here. Roy leaned forward and examined the floor and wall around the bloodstained blanket. Something suddenly caught his eye behind a large potted plant leaning against the wall. He leaned forward and blanched when he saw a familiar metallic object sitting on the carpet, hidden almost entirely hidden by the plant. He snatched the object up, forehead creasing.

It was the paperweight Ed had stolen from him just a few days before. The one Hughes had only half seriously given to him for his twenty-seventh birthday.

Roy quickly slipped the pointed object into his pocket and stepped back, lost in thought. He started as he heard footsteps walking towards him from the direction of where the dining room and sitting room had been.

Roy schooled his expression as Merrick approached him. He was holding a steaming paper cup with a lid.

“I apologize for the absence, colonel. I made some tea for you,” The doctor said, his expression as gracious as ever. 

Well, that was thoughtful. The man really was never anything but the picture of kindness. Roy forced himself to smile as he took the cup from him. Was that… dried blood on his knuckles? “Thank you. And I apologize for shouting. I’m just a little anxious to get going. It’s been a long day.”

Merrick smiled in return. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Well, thank you for your hospitality. I know I wouldn’t be quite so forgiving if someone woke me up so late at night.” He started to walk back towards the door, retrieving his coat.

“Don’t worry about it. I was already awake, reading. I’m more than happy to help.”

Roy opened the door and stepped back out onto the entrance. 

“Let me know if you find any news of Edward. I’m concerned as well,” The man said with an appropriately caring expression.

Roy nodded as he pulled his coat on. “Of course. Good night, doctor.” He gave the man a wave as he walked back down to his car.

“Good night to you as well, colonel. Drive safely, please,” Merrick called after him, returning the wave with a warm smile.

Roy gave him one last smile as he climbed into his car and drove off into the night, tendons pulled tightly in his hand until his knuckles were clenched bleach white on the steering wheel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha torture. pain. 😀  
> And not me uploading the most fucking harrowing chapter in this fic on Christmas oh my god. I promise that was not intentional. Happy holidays and Merry Christmas if you celebrate! :o)  
> New chapter will be up on Monday! Hope you all enjoyed lol. If you have the time, feel free to leave a kudo or a comment or come throw hands with me on my tumblr :)


	6. Dark Matter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> Descriptions of violence/gore, torture, panic attack, threatening/abusive language

Roy drove for around five minutes before he turned back.

He was tossing theories around in his head endlessly, trying to decide what to do. Something had happened at the doctor’s house, that much was obvious. He just wasn’t sure what. It seemed there had been some kind of struggle between Merrick and someone else in the foyer, shown by the cut on the doctor’s chin, his bloodied knuckles, and the blood and glass on the floor. And now that other person was nowhere to be seen. Merrick was obviously alone in his house. And, even more odd, it seemed he hadn’t even bothered to clean up most of the mess left behind, which told Roy he had been forced to attend to something else.

Roy pulled out the cold metallic paperweight and gripped it in his hand before slipping it back into his pocket again. He was confused, to say the least, as to how it could have gone from being in Ed’s possession to wedged in between the floor and a house plant in Merrick’s foyer, near the glass and blood on the floor. The simplest explanations he could think of were innocent enough, but the alternatives were much worse.

That odd finding, Edward’s disappearance, and the fact that Merrick had so clearly lied about whatever had happened made the whole thing sit even worse with him. On the other hand, this also could’ve just been a misunderstanding and he was being overly paranoid, as he was prone to do. Roy had half a mind to just call it the doctor’s business and head home for the night, but he knew that wasn’t the right call. That self-preserving instinct ground into him from his nightmarish months on the battlefield told him that this wasn’t a misunderstanding and there was something very, very wrong here.

So here he was, speeding back to the doctor’s house with a half-baked plan and a nagging worry in his gut. Like an idiot. To top it all off, he hadn’t brought his ignition gloves or any kind of weapon with himself. He hadn’t seen the need to on the drive over. The closest thing he had to a weapon was a spare piece of chalk he found lying in the dashboard of his car. He slipped it into the inside of his coat, cursing himself. He had no way of knowing if this could turn into a conflict, although it seemed doubtful. It was hard to imagine Merrick being combative. Or doing anything wrong, for that matter.

He pulled in a street away from Merrick’s house, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He walked as stealthily as he could to the edge of the street and paused for a moment. He couldn’t very well knock on the door again, but he didn’t exactly want to break and enter either. He raised his eyes heavenward before settling for inching around the edge of the huge manicured lawn around the manor and looking for another entrance inside from the back. The wet grass made a sick squelching sound under his feet as he he crept to the small woodland wrapped around the back of the house. Roy squinted to focus on the back of the distant manor as he squatted in the soaked dirt, hoping he was completely obscured by the trees around him. He tried to ignore the way the icy rain soaked every inch of his body. His damn gloves would’ve been useless anyway. Roy could barely see anything in the darkness and the rain, but he perceived an unlit greenhouse, a well kept garden, and a shed, as well as a lit back door which led into the manor. 

Roy sat there for a minute, still considering his options, when he saw the back door swing open slowly. He watched, eyes narrowed, as a dark figure that was clearly Merrick walked out of the house, holding an umbrella over his head. He locked the door behind him and started walking towards the shed. The doctor entered the small building quickly and the night was quiet again, aside from the quiet patter of rain.

Roy waited a few painful more minutes before he moved, creeping quietly across the lawn to the back door. At least the rain was masking his movement. He peeked inside. The door led into a dimly lit, polished parlor room.

Turning around, he shifted his attention to the small shed. He didn’t know what business the good doctor might have in a garden shed late on a rainy night, but it seemed he was about to find out.

He walked to the shed along the moonlit cobblestone path as quickly as he could without slipping. On the way over, he almost tripped over something and fell face first onto the ground. Roy looked down at the ground for the offending object and found a half rotting potted peace lily sitting to the left of the path tangled under his feet, underneath a squatted cypress tree. He kicked it to the side with a huff and continued walking to the shed more cautiously, crouching low to the ground. Once he was standing outside it, he noticed there was a bolt on the outside of the door. He put a hand on it and shook. It came loose easily. Merrick apparently hadn’t bothered to lock it behind him. Roy put his ear close to the door and listened.

He couldn’t hear anything. There was complete silence. 

Roy frowned. That was definitely odd. Merrick should have been making some kind of noise in there.

He cautiously cracked open the door and craned his neck to look inside. The cramped room was almost pitch black. A single window on the left wall shone into the room, filling it with dim moonlight. He could vaguely see the outline of some shelves pushed against the wall, filled with what looked like regular gardening supplies. Rakes, shears, and the like leaned against the walls. 

Roy stepped forward and slammed the door against the wall with a _bang,_ rushing inside. His eyes darted around the small room, searching for Merrick. 

He wasn’t in the shed.

Roy looked around the room with confusion. Where the hell had he gone off to? He walked across the room in a few strides and glanced out the window, running a hand through his dripping hair. He watched the silent trees outside for a few moments and continued walking around the shed, squinting at the shelves. Nothing out of the ordinary, it seemed. Suddenly, he froze as he felt the ground under his feet make a different sound than the rest of the floor. He leaned back and forth on it, listening closely. It sounded… dense. Metallic, maybe?

He frowned and crouched to rest on his knees, examining the ground. There were pieces of hay and a worn looking rug spread over the majority of the ground. He pushed the damp rug aside and was surprised when he saw what looked like the top of a metallic hatch in the ground. A padlock was attached to the hinge. 

Well, if he’d been looking for anything suspicious, he’d definitely found it. Roy wasn’t exactly looking forward to finding out why Doctor Merrick apparently had a bunker hidden in a shed behind his house. He yanked at the lock, but it was sealed. Of course. There was no way he would be able to rip the hatch open with pure force.

He wiped his wet hand on the inside of his jacket and pulled the piece of chalk out of his coat pocket. He racked his brain to remember the raw materials that went into creating a basic padlock. Brass, cast zinc, steel, nickel… Shit, he needed Ed’s freakish memory. His basic elemental alchemy was rusty.

His fingers were stiff and achy. After a few failed attempts and a lot of erasing and cursing under his breath, Roy pressed his hands down on the lock and it deconstructed under his fingers, crumbling away into separated pieces.

Finally. Roy slipped the chalk back into his pocket and wrapped his hand around the latch, slowly lifting up the heavy metal door. 

As he did, he realized he could hear a voice. The hatch must have been soundproof. Roy paused to try to discern the voice. It definitely sounded like the doctor, but he was too far away to hear exactly what he was saying.

Roy pulled the hatch up as silently as possible. To his chagrin, it made a loud screeching noise just as he had opened it wide enough to crawl through. He froze. The voice went silent. 

_Goddammit_. Roy hesitated for a moment and decided to just head down anyway. Hopefully whatever risk he was taking wouldn’t come back to bite him too hard in the ass.

There was a metal ladder attached to the wall leading down into the bunker. He climbed down the rungs, moving down as quickly and quietly as he could manage. As soon as he was closer to the underground room, the stench hit him. It was putrid. Just thinking about whatever was making that smell made him feel physically ill. It reminded him of hot desert sand in his eyes and the scent of charred, blistering bodies lying at his feet.

Roy grit his teeth and mentally shook himself. That was not something he needed to be thinking about right now. As he moved out of the tunnel and into the room, he realized he could hear a muffled sound. It sounded vaguely like a person’s voice. He strained his head to turn around as he grew closer to the sound, squinting through the dismal lighting.

He could feel his heart skip several beats as his eyes focused on the source of the noise. His feet nearly slipped backwards off of the ladder.

Through the dim light, he could see a half conscious, hyperventilating Edward, chained tightly to a chair in the back of the damp room, gagged and half naked, almost his entire body and face littered with inky, dark bruises and openly bleeding gashes.

Roy’s vision whited out for a second. Every nerve in his body was set on fire with rage. “ _Ed_ … Oh my god…” He loosened his fingers from the ladder and let himself slide off the rails, landing hard on the concrete floor. He stumbled and sprinted across the room to reach him. Ed was making frantic, strangled noises around the cloth stuffed in his mouth, his eyes frantically moving from Roy to something behind him.

Roy was almost at his side when he finally took the hint. He whirled around and was able to throw himself to the side just as a figure leapt out from underneath a nearby table and stabbed him in the shoulder.

* * *

Ed couldn’t move anymore. It hurt too much. Any part of his body he tried to shift would scream in rabid protest at him. He had lost track of where and when the injuries had been inflicted on him. 

With his boundless luck, he had drifted back into consciousness just as Merrick was climbing down the ladder after attending to whatever the hell he was doing up there.

Ed glanced at him with glazed over eyes and was about to pass out again when he felt the man’s grip in his hair, yanking his head up. “Stay awake,” He said in a low voice. “Or I’ll cut out your eyes.”

Ed doubted that was an empty threat. He blinked his eyes open, forcing his dazed mind to hold onto slippery consciousness.

Merrick let go of him when he saw his eyes open and pushed his head back. Ed let it hang back, staring at the colorless ceiling. He wondered distantly how long the doctor had been operating in this basement, how many children had died in this exact spot. He couldn’t remember the number from the papers. Had it been around… twenty? He was going to be sick again. 

How many hours was he going to sit there, feeling his body being torn into shreds? Until his soul finally passed on? Until his body was just an unidentifiable lump of oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, calcium, nitrogen, and phosphorus? Until he was just another sketch in the doctor’s journal? Sitting there, unable to move, his body dully pounding with agony, waiting for Merrick to inflict whatever torment he had an inclination for on him—he thought he was beginning to understand how his previous victims had felt. Just a few hours of it was enough to make him feel like he was going insane. He couldn’t begin to imagine what a few days felt like, let alone a week or more.

Merrick had pulled on that damn apron again and was adjusting something at one of the tables. Ed worked his tongue around the cloth in his dry mouth as he listened, wishing he could drink some water. He didn’t think he had ever been this thirsty. 

He must have lost awareness for a moment, because Merrick was suddenly in front of him again, holding some some other tool.

It was a pair of pliers. _Fuck_. Ed rolled his head forward again uneasily and tried not to let his imagination run wild with whatever he had planned.

“Have you ever heard of the term ‘dolorimetry?’,” Merrick asked in a calm voice. Ed didn’t trust it anymore. That was the same voice that had quickly descended into verbally tearing him apart, battering him with his deepest fears. “Several years ago, a team of researchers at a university in Central conducted an investigation in which they made efforts to quantify pain. They collected a group of a hundred or so participants and conducted burns to all of their foreheads. Then, the research team asked each person to rate their pain on a scale from 0-10.5 in measurements of pain called a _dolor_.”

Ed wasn’t appreciating the history lesson. He wished the fucker would just pull out his teeth or fingernails or whatever the hell else he wanted and just get it over with. Although, getting things over with quickly didn’t exactly seem to be Merrick’s MO.

“Every person they asked to rate the same pain gave completely different answers, ranging all the way from 1 to 10. None of the results agreed. And here lies the fatal flaw with that experiment: there is simply no universal, objective scale in existence to measure pain. Each person’s unique experiences and backgrounds influence them in different ways, allowing them to perceive the same pain differently. So what little Isidora Watson could endure a few weeks ago before she was forced to pass out from the pain is very different from what Mr. Edward Elric, certified State Alchemist, can endure now,” He said mockingly, stepping closer to Ed.

Ed had to hand it to him for making his batshit explanation for why he was going to pull out all of his fingernails at least sound scholarly. He looked down into his lap, shivering tensely, unable to hide the moisture welling in his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was from the nagging pain or fear.

Merrick reached out a hand and put it under his eye, wiping away one of his tears from Ed’s blood encrusted eye. Ed managed to keep himself from flinching back. “No need to cry, Edward. You should—”

There was a sudden, excruciatingly loud metallic screech far away above their heads. Ed and Merrick both swiveled their heads to look up. Merrick slowly pulled away his hand. He walked away from him silently and slipped something off of one of the tables, gently setting down the pliers.

Ed heard footsteps coming down the ladder. He could feel hope welling in his throbbing chest. His breath was coming out in convulsive gasps again. He tried to scream and get the person’s attention, but it was too painful. All he could manage were muffled cries. A foot stepped into Ed’s view and he leaned his head forward as far as the pain would allow him, trying to see who it was. Another foot stepped down. Ed could see familiar navy blue pants and part of a black coat. The person quickly moved down a few more rungs and Ed could see short, tousled black hair.

No fucking way.

It was Mustang. Roy fucking Mustang was thirty feet away from him, climbing into the pits of hell right alongside Ed. He never thought he’d be so relieved to see his commanding officer. His cries grew even more frantic.

Mustang finally seemed to hear him. He turned around with some effort and squinted at Ed. When his eyes finally focused, Ed could hear him choke with shock. “ _Ed_ … Oh my god…” He stumbled down the rest of the ladder as he rushed to Ed’s side.

Ed tried to shake his head desperately, his eyes wide with panic. He could see Merrick slowly standing up from his crouching position behind the table. He strained his eyes back and forth between the two. The idiot had to move, right now. He had to get out of the way before—

Merrick jumped out at Mustang, clutching a scalpel in his hand. He reached for the colonel’s throat, but Mustang was able to fling himself out of the way at the last second. Ed watched with horror as the blade was plunged deeply into Mustang’s shoulder, and the man grunted in pain. Merrick pushed him down to the ground with all of his body weight and reached again for the scalpel. Mustang yelled in rage and kicked out his leg, hitting Merrick directly in the crotch. Merrick winced and paused for just a half a second. Mustang took the opportunity to shove the doctor forcefully off of himself. He yanked the scalpel out of his shoulder and made a stab at Merrick’s jugular, who rolled himself out of the way at the last second. Mustang was about to try again when his body suddenly went rigid. Ed stared with wide eyes as his commanding officer gasped in pain. He heard the knife being pulled out of Mustang’s gut before he saw it. Mustang rolled sideways to the floor on top of Merrick, clutching his stomach. Merrick shoved the limp man to the side and pushed himself to his feet. Ed cried out again desperately, trying to tell Mustang to get up, to attack him. He couldn’t be beaten. He _couldn’t_.

Merrick pulled the scalpel out of Roy’s loosening hand and held both of the blood-soaked blades, a self-satisfied smile on his face. He leaned down to examine Roy’s contorted face, his wildly dangerous eyes. He looked close to passing out. Merrick must have hit somewhere critical in his stomach.

“Well, the Hero of Ishval was certainly easier to incapacitate than I initially anticipated. Almost as easy as the Hero of the People,” He leered at Ed in a way that made his blood freeze in his veins. Merrick crouched down again as his attention was caught by something on the floor. “Is that… hmm, no need for that right now.” He retrieved what looked like a bloody piece of chalk on the ground, slipping it into his pocket.

“Colonel Mustang, hmm? Edward certainly had some… interesting things about you during our sessions.” He leaned back to look at Ed again.

 _Fuck_. Ed stared back, eyes stinging. His chest was moving up and down so quickly, he could barely get air into his burning lungs. Apparently there were worse methods of torture than being stabbed and bludgeoned with a hammer. He’d take having his damn teeth pulled out over Merrick telling Mustang about what he’d said during their appointments.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t anticipate you catching on tonight. You are the first, after all,” Merrick said. “It appears I was a bit too careless. This is all a bit new to me. My enjoyment of our earlier exchange may have clouded my judgement. Covering my tracks will be a little more difficult for now, but truthfully, I’m looking forward to the challenge. I’ve never hadthe opportunity to add anyone of your stature.” He began wiping the blades on his apron, turning around to walk back to one of the tables.

Ed’s heart was thudding so hard against his sternum, he was certain he was going to have a heart attack. It couldn’t end here, it couldn’t. Not like this. Mustang had been so _fucking_ close… The fucking idiot. Did he not bring his gloves? Or a gun? Or anything? What the hell was he doing? Wasn’t he a fucking soldier? Wasn’t he supposed to be good at shit like this? He looked desperately down at Mustang’s broken figure. Ed blinked in surprise when he saw that his dark eyes looked clear now that Merrick’s back was turned. Mustang’s eyes were fixed on Merrick as his hand made small movements on the ground, out of the man’s line of sight. Ed didn’t know what he was planning, but he knew he had to keep the doctor’s focus off of him before he noticed whatever he was doing.

Ed forced himself to make his voice louder, turning his cries into loud shrieks, looking pointedly back over at Merrick. It was about the only distraction he could manage at the moment. 

Merrick turned around. He was still wiping off the blood from the knife. “No need to be panicked, Edward,” He said, setting down the knife and creeping closer to him again. “Unfortunate as it is, I don’t have the time to devote the same attention to the colonel as I can to you. His death will be reasonably quick. And you’ll get to watch every part of it,” He said in a pleasant voice.

Ed could still see the colonel’s hand shifting almost imperceptibly in the corner of his eye. He kept his eyes trained on Merrick and his face as blank with fear as possible, which wasn’t difficult.

Merrick was even closer now. He stood beside Ed, looking down at Mustang. Ed couldn’t stop himself from shivering as he felt the man’s hand trace down his bare shoulder and then his back. He suddenly viciously gripped the edges of Ed’s tangled hair again and yanked his head back, exposing his mutilated throat. He lifted the large knife and dug it into the skin above Ed’s collarbone, dragging the blade upwards, slower, closer to the deep gash in his throat. He leaned in closer, listening. Ed managed to keep himself quiet and motionless.

“Get… your _fucking_ hands off of him,” Ed managed to strain his bloodshot eyes down to make eye contact with Mustang for barely a moment. The colonel’s pitch black eyes were narrowed into slits. Ed had never seen that kind of unhinged, splintered fury in his eyes. It was like he was looking straight into the center of a blistering inferno. “Hurt me all you want, motherfucker, but if you don’t let go of him I will tear your fucking throat out.” He growled, acidic rage poisoning every syllable.

Goddamn stupid fucking _idiot_. Even in Ed’s state, he could tell Merrick was baiting him, trying to get a reaction. There was no room to try to play hero or whatever the hell Mustang was trying to do. The doctor dug in the blade even deeper and dragged it upwards in a tearing motion as he pulled it out. Ed couldn’t stop the agonized sound that came out of his throat as Merrick quickly let go of his grip in Ed’s hair and snapped his head back. He turned around to face the colonel. Mustang was still laying on the ground, clutching his stomach, his face twisted in pain. 

“Just what I expected,” Merrick hissed, walking back over to the colonel. His voice was mocking as he bent over, no doubt about to stab him again, when Mustang’s expression suddenly grew savage and he swung his hand up, beaming Merrick on the head with something, hard. Merrick stumbled back, stunned, and the burred object clattered onto the ground. Ed focused his eyes on it long enough to realize it was that ugly paperweight, of all things. Mustang took the opportunity to quickly draw an array on the bloody ground underneath his stomach. Ed was starting to worry he hadn’t bought himself enough time when Merrick threw himself forward—just as Mustang slapped his hand down on the messy array. 

There was an alchemic shift in the air and the ground around the two men suddenly began caving in deeply underneath them, by some miracle. Ed gasped in pain as the chair he was bolted to shifted forward on the ground, leaning him forward at an awkward angle. The men were thrust down out of Ed’s sight. He strained his head to try to see into the hole, but it was impossible. He could only listen to the sounds of their fight, shaking with anticipation. 

He almost stopped breathing as he heard what sounded like a knife stabbing deeply into someone’s skin, a loud gurgling sound, and then terrifying silence.

Someone was dead.

Ed watched the hole, eyes shaded with terror as he heard someone grunting and attempting to climb back out. After what felt like the longest thirty seconds of his life, he finally saw a head of ruffled black hair emerge. 

He wanted to feel relief, but his body seemed incapable of calming down. Ed's heart was still pounding at the speed of light. His shallow, muffled breathing filled the quiet room. Mustang hauled himself out of the hole, gasping as he landed on the edge, clutching his bleeding stomach. He pushed himself to his knees and choked out, “Ed?”

Ed looked up at him haggardly, breathing unsteadily, unable to make any sign he was still responsive. He could barely hear the colonel over the roaring of blood in his ears. His vision was blurring.

“Ed… everything’s okay,” Mustang stumbled over to him. “Just breathe, alright? He’s gone. He’s not coming back.”

Was Merrick really gone? Was he… safe? Ed felt hot tears welling in his eyes and running down his face, stinging against the gashes in his face as the gag was pulled off from his mouth. He gasped in breath, coughing immediately and feeling his ribs scream in protest. He felt an uncertain hand on his uninjured shoulder, and he flinched away from the touch. “ _No_ …” He gasped. 

“I know, kid. Just try to breathe. I need to get you untied.” He felt hands touching the chains around his arm. Ed groaned weakly. “Oh my god,” The colonel said in horror. Ed slowly registered that his eyes were fixed on his hand. It was no doubt bruised and broken to shit, along with every other part of him. 

Mustang shook the chains on his arm uselessly. There was no ways he’d be able to pull them off. “I’m going to find something to unlock these chains. Just hang on, okay?” He said, voice strained.

Ed heard uneven withdrawing footsteps, and he let his eyes close. There was rustling in the room, but aside from that and his unsteady breathing, utter silence. The adrenaline and hysteria were wearing off, and Ed was slowly becoming aware of just how much pain he was in. He'd lost a lot of blood. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay awake. 

“Got it,” Mustang said. There was a jingling sound, and he was back at his side in a flash. Ed’s eyes opened again slightly as he felt the colonel pressing keys into the padlock on the chains around his automail arm. After a few moments of struggling, he managed to find the right key and the chains fell loose from his hand. Mustang repeated the process for his other limbs. Ed felt he was trying to be gentle, but every movement was sending a shocking amount of pain through his body. Mustang was probably saying something placating as Ed whimpered raggedly from the pain of unfurling the chains from his broken foot. He tried to move his trembling left arm in a damned bid to feel some kind of control over his body, but it was quickly shot through with more dizzying pain, and he let it go limp again. He bit down his bloody lips to keep himself from crying out. 

“I know, Ed, I know. I need to get you out of here. I’m going to pick you up,” Mustang said grimly. “Just… just hang in there.”

Ed looked up at him, barely comprehending. He tried to speak, but he couldn’t bring his lips to move. He felt Mustang lay some heavy wet cloth on top of him—a coat, maybe. The rough material dug into his wounds, but it felt better to not have his skin exposed to the biting cold and acidic air.

Mustang gently laid his hands under Ed and lifted him up. 

Ed’s throat was torn apart as he let out a scream. His vision finally blacked out as agony overtook him. He welcomed the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catch Roy just being prime himbo in this chapter. That crusty man needs to carry around a fcking backup pair of gloves. And Ed is rlly out here just having. the absolute worst time of his life ((: I'm so sorry  
> Thank you all so much for all of the kudos and comments!! I want to give each and every one of you a hug <33 Next chapter will be up this Friday!


	7. Hidden Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> Descriptions of injuries, hospitalization, intrusive thoughts, discussion of disturbing subject matter

Ed couldn’t tell if he was awake or asleep.

Everything was skewed. The world was tilting sideways on its axis, at acute angles and in backward shapes that made his stomach twist. The fragile lines between reality and fantasy were blurring over as he drifted in and out of consciousness over and over. It seemed he was somewhere more confusing every time. He was only ever lucid for a few moments, and then it was back to the oblivion and endless bizarre dreams.

The first time, his head and back were leaning against what felt like the leathery back of a chair.

_Fifteen degrees._

He heard someone cursing under their breath. Ed opened his eyes slightly and he could see lights wizzing past, feel whatever he was sitting in jostle. He felt his shattered ribs protest, and he made a feeble sound of discomfort.

“Go back to sleep, Fullmetal,” A deep voice said. “Everything’s alright.”

 _Fullmetal_ …

It was Mustang. Not Merrick. Ed’s eyelids were too heavy for him to try to protest against his words. He let himself be carried back to sleep.

The next time he tried to open his eyes, bright light pierced into the back of his eyelids and he grimaced in pain. Or at least, he thought he did. He wasn’t really certain what his body was doing anymore.

_Thirty degrees._

Ed could feel a current of air rushing past his head and a dozen voices speaking gibberish over him. He couldn’t bring any part of himself to move. Something hard was pressed onto his face, and there was a slightly sweet smell in his nose before he was asleep again.

He was trapped in shadowy sleep again, and then he could hear voices around him again. He was laying down on something papery, his entire body numb. He was in a hospital. Again. He let that information wash over him, too bone numbingly exhausted to have much of an opinion on it.

_Forty-five degrees._

He recognized some of the voices. He could hear Lieutenant Hawkeye and was that… Alphonse’s voice? Ed tried to force his eyes open, move his leaden limbs, but nothing was working. He tried to speak, but the high-pitched sound that came out was barely perceptible.

He felt a large, gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, brother, you can rest. You’re safe.” Al sounded so… heartbroken.

Ed wanted to sit up, tell his little brother he was okay and there was no reason to sound so sad, but he was too overwhelmed by fatigue. He only caught a shadowy glimpse of his brother before he was asleep again.

The next time Ed fully awoke, it was because of a gnawing pain in his shoulder.

_Ninety degrees._

His mind clawed its way back to consciousness and was finally able to hold on. He managed to pry open his swollen eyes and he was blinded by the stark white of the walls around him and the lights in the ceiling above him. He squinted up dully, listening. He could hear faraway soft voices and footsteps. There was a quiet page turn, and his eyes shifted over to his left. To his surprise, Lieutenant Hawkeye was seated in a chair pushed against the wall, wearing civilian clothes and a pair of glasses as she read a book.

Ed tried to sit up, but his body wouldn’t allow it. He let out a faint gasp, his breathing growing faster.

Riza looked up from her book. “Edward!” She got to her feet and set her book down. “I’m so glad to see you’re awake.” She said with relief. “Try to focus on breathing slower.”

Ed tried to slow his breathing, concentrating on getting his bearings. He could feel he was propped up on a few fluffy pillows, his hair tied back loosely behind his head. It smelled nice, like someone had washed it. He shifted his eyes to look down at his broken body, slowly taking in all of his injuries. There was an IV poking into the approximate one square inch of exposed skin on his arm, as well as some tube stuck up his nose. His left arm and right leg were propped up, wrapped in casts. Underneath the warm blanket covering his body, he could see that almost everything from his throat to his waist was a sea of stitches and bandages. It was unnerving that he could see all of these things on his body but not actually feel most of it. There was an overwhelming numbness enveloping his body, no doubt because of whatever sedative they’d been pumping him full of. The only real pain he could feel was in his shoulder right next to his automail arm. The nerves were completely fried. That must have been what had woken him up. No doubt he wouldn’t be able to move the stupid thing an inch. Ed could only hope he hadn’t done any permanent damage to the port, or Winry would murder him herself.

“You’ve been asleep for about three days now,” Riza said softly, as if she was afraid she might break Ed if she spoke too loudly. She was standing near the bed, looking down at him with concern.

Ed didn’t like feeling her eyes on him. It made him feel uneasy. “ _Thr_ —“ His voice sounded like sandpaper. His mutilated throat was not enjoying his efforts to speak. Ed coughed and tried again. “Three days?” He asked in a soft, raspy voice. His mouth tasted like actual shit.

She nodded, reaching over to his bedside table and grabbing a full glass of water. “Here, drink some water.” She lifted the water up to his cracked, dry lips and helped him drink. Ed guzzled it down thankfully.

Riza set the water bottle back down after he was finished. “The colonel brought you here and called Alphonse and I before he passed out.” She paused. “I’m glad you’re awake, Edward.”

 _I’m glad you’re alive._ That was what she really meant. “Me too,” He rasped. He looked up and saw that dark curtains were drawn over the window. “Where’s Al?” He asked.

“He’s been at your side since you were admitted. I told him around a half hour ago to go take a walk and get some fresh air when I arrived. He should be back soon.”

Ed nodded. His eyes slid over to a table on the other side of the room, which was covered in an impressive amount of elaborate bouquets, cards, and balloons. The gifts had overflowed to the ground around the table. It was almost comforting, if not a little disconcerting to know so many people were thinking of him. He looked over to the windowed door leading to the hospital hallway. There was an officer in a military uniform standing by it outside. Ed's brows knit together as Riza followed his gaze to the door.

“Officers have been guarding your door since your admittance,” She explained.

“Why?” Ed asked, confused. There shouldn’t be any need for him to be protected anymore.

“The case has garnered quite a bit of… media attention,” Riza said in a voice that masked her irritation. “There have been reporters trying to get into your room.”

“Oh.” That made sense. “What day is it?” He asked. Maybe knowing the date would help him feel less like he was wading through a fever dream.

“It’s Friday, November twenty-seventh,” She responded quickly.

The twenty-seventh. That seemed wrong to him, for some reason. “Merrick…” Ed whispered suddenly, the name tasting bitter in his mouth. “Is he…?”

Riza hesitated for a moment. All of a sudden, Ed could see how exhausted she really looked. “Dead,” She replied. “He’s never going to hurt you again.”

Ed nodded weakly, letting his eyes close. He probably should have felt some sense of vindication, but all he could feel was a pathetic relief that the man would never look at him again. “Is the colonel okay?” He found himself asking.

“He was discharged from the hospital just this afternoon. His injuries weren’t as severe as yours. However, he’s not going to be returning to work for at least another few days. Not unless he wants a bullet to the head,” She finished grimly.

Ed tried to laugh, but it quickly turned into a hacking cough. He was going to reply when he heard the door creak open.

“Brother?” Alphonse was back.

“Al,” Ed said, smiling genuinely at the sight of his brother looming in the doorway. He could feel some weight lifted off him at just hearing his brother’s voice, some relief just knowing that he was—

_You killed your own brother. You condemned him to an unfeeling, steel prison. Your fault your fault your fault you’re a fucking mon—_

“ _Brother_! You’re awake!” Al dropped whatever he’d been holding and ran to Ed’s bedside.

The world was tilting again. Ed desperately tried to shove down the vicious thoughts crawling out of his tainted mind at the mere sight of his brother, trying to focus on how relieved and happy Al sounded.

“I’ll go let a nurse know you’re up,” Riza said, smiling warmly at the boys. She left the room as Al flustered over his brother. “I was so nervous!” He said brightly. “It’s been three days since the Colonel brought you in and I’m… I’m just so relieved to see you’re awake.” He was leaning forward, like he wanted to give Ed a hug but was scared to injure him.

Al settled for gently resting a gauntlet on Ed’s upper right arm. Ed felt a shiver run through his body at the contact. Powerful fingers were gripping his jaw, pulling on his hair, ghosting all over every part of his— _fuck_ , what the hell was wrong with him? Al. It was just Al. He was sitting in a hospital room. Merrick was—

“How are you feeling?” Al asked.

Ed wasn’t sure how honest he should be. “Okay,” He settled on. “Can’t really feel much of anything right now.”

“That makes sense,” His brother responded. “They’ve been giving you medicine to help you feel less pain. Your throat is still hurt, so you should try not to push it too hard.”

Ed nodded. He couldn’t speak louder or strain his throat if he wanted to. He pushed back an unwelcome, distinct memory of Merrick telling him the exact same thing in that… room.

“Brother… I…” Ed’s eyes snapped up at the abrupt change in Al’s voice. “I don’t know how to say this but I’m… I’m so sorry. You were in so much pain… you were so hurt and I didn’t even know. He was… I should’ve known, I should’ve been there to help, I should’ve—”

“Al, no,” Ed cut in sharply, horrified. It sounded like Al was releasing something he’d been thinking about for a long time. “This isn’t your fault. I don’t want to hear you blaming yourself like that.” The way he was speaking reminded Ed of himself, and that thought made him sad. His brother should never have to feel like that, especially not because of something that so clearly wasn’t his fault. “There was no way you could’ve known. Don’t let yourself think like that.”

“You… you almost _died_ ,” Al said in a quiet voice. “He almost killed you.”

“Yes, and he didn’t,” Ed said urgently. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” He wished he could put his hand on Al’s.

Al nodded shakily. “I’m sorry. I should be the one comforting you.”

Ed gave him a gentle smile. “It’s okay, Al. I’m fine.”

_He hates you. Your fault. Fucking monster._

_One hundred and ten degrees._

_Shit._

* * *

Deep down, Roy knew he probably should’ve stayed another day or two at the hospital. The stab wound in his stomach had been pretty severe. Maes and Hawkeye both encouraged him to stay longer, but he couldn’t do it. Staying in the hospital just made him feel useless. He needed to be out, doing _something_. And unfortunately, that something couldn’t be work for another few days. He had been ordered to stay home and recover. Roy would have just ignored that and gone up to HQ anyway if he wasn’t certain that Hawkeye would gun him down before he could reach his office.

He’d been up in a blind, half conscious confusion when he first woke in the hospital, certain for just a few moments that Edward was dead. An attending nurse told him that Ed was alive and being kept just a floor above him. Roy quickly turned on the charm for the nurses and managed to convince them to wheelchair him up to Ed’s room a few hours after he woke up, just so he could verify the kid was still breathing. Comatose and beaten to hell and back, but alive. Thank fucking god.

He visited Fullmetal’s room again before he left a few days later, talking to Alphonse for a couple minutes.

“I’m tired of watching him like this,” Al told him quietly.

Roy was too.

Edward looked like shit. Roy hadn’t quite known what he was expecting, but lying unconscious in the large hospital bed, covered in wires and wrapped in bandages, the kid looked almost dead. He supposed that was to be expected, considering how close he had brushed with death. Roy shuddered to think of what would have happened if he didn’t happen to notice the mess in Merrick’s house. The fucker would still be free, still doing… whatever the hell it was he had planned for Ed. That particular fear had been agonizing him in all of his most recent dreams. Some part of himself wasn’t going to believe Edward was actually alive until he saw the kid awake and snarling insults and abuse at a him at a million miles an hour like usual. He couldn’t.

Not after the last time he’d seen him.

Roy had never seen Edward that desperate before, at that pitch point of terror.

He’d never seen him cry.

Something about that expression in his eyes tugged at that deep and nameless part of himself that had been carved into his soul years ago in Ishval when he heard the shrill sounds of children screaming in agony as he melted the flesh off their bones with a single snap, reduced their fragile frames to ashes. That part of himself that he liked to ignore that had taken one look at Edward and Alphonse almost three years ago and told him to keep these kids _safe_.

Something he’d almost failed at. Miserably.

Hawkeye had been visiting Ed almost every spare hour she had when not working. Roy knew she felt responsible for this mess, and although he had tried to tell her multiple times there was no way she could have known her former psychiatrist had been a cunning, vicious serial killer, he knew there was no way to actually convince her. She had her own connection with Merrick. She’d known him, in the same way Ed had. Roy felt responsible, too, of course. It’d been his own damn orders that sent Ed right into harm’s way.

He had been fitfully dozing off on the couch in his barren apartment when he heard the phone ring. He heard Maes answer it and then call for him.

“Coming,” He grumbled, grimacing as he pushed himself to his feet. Someone had draped a blanket over him, presumably Hughes. His friend had been staying in his apartment ever since he arrived in East City, partially because he didn’t want to stay in the cramped dorms or pay for an expensive hotel, and partially to make sure Roy was taking care of himself, much to his annoyance, because he wasn’t. He never did. Maes had insisted on helping lead the investigation when he heard of Ed’s direct involvement with the situation. He had been sent down from Central along with several other higher ranking officers in Investigations to aid with the Merrick case. The amount of evidence to comb through and catalog in the bastard’s house and bunker was staggering. It wasn’t pleasant work. Roy could see the case taking a toll on his friend and those around him.

Roy snatched the phone from his friend and leaned against the wall. “This is Mustang. Who is it?” He asked groggily.

“It’s Hawkeye, sir,” The lieutenant replied.

“Oh, lieutenant. What’s going on?”

“Edward’s awake,” She said simply.

Roy’s eyes sharpened. He looking at the clock on the wall. It was nearly six o’clock. Almost completely dark outside. “How’s he doing?” He asked.

“Not very well,” She admitted. “The hospital staff have been trying to tend to him and he’s being… combative.”

Roy sighed. He couldn’t say he was surprised. God knew what the kid had gone through in that bunker in just a few hours. He had seen that place enough in his own unpleasant dreams the last few nights. “I’m on my way,” He said. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“I’ll see you then, sir,” Riza replied. There was relief in her voice. “And don’t even think about driving yourself. Call a cab or ask Lieutenant Colonel Hughes,” She added pointedly.

“Yes, yes, I will,” Roy said with irritation, hanging up the phone.

Hughes looked at him. He was wearing his military trousers with a button-up rolled up to his elbows. He looked distinctly exhausted. He had returned from working on the Merrick case only an hour before. “Ed’s awake?” He asked.

Roy nodded.

“I’ll drive,” Hughes said. Roy walked slowly to the restroom and splashed some water in his face. He could see his reflection clearly in the spotless mirror. Maes had gone through and cleaned about half his house at this point with some kind of manic nervous energy left over after helping lead the investigation day after day. The worn face looking back at him in the mirror reminded Roy of what Ed had looked like when he came to hand his report in two weeks ago after his previous stint in the hospital. Just before Roy had ordered him to go see Merrick.

 _Goddammit_. That train of thought wasn’t going to get him anywhere productive. He knew that. He scoffed and slammed the bathroom door behind him as he walked to the door. He picked up his coat and he and Maes drove to the hospital in Roy’s car. They both ignored the blood stains in both seats from Roy’s desperate drive to the hospital just a few days earlier. Neither of them had the energy to try to clean anything at the moment.

“How was the investigation today?” Roy asked. They hadn’t had a chance to speak, since he had been driven home and fallen asleep before Maes had arrived at his apartment.

“Especially grueling,” Maes replied, voice weary. “I’m never going to be able to unsee some of the things in that house.” He grimaced. “It was discovered just today that he recorded everything he did in the last decade in detail in a set of diaries. Guy was operating on a whole other level of narcissism. They were in a secret compartment in his bedroom. He intentionally sought out and therapized the parents of some of his victims, just to gloat. And based on what he wrote, there are other victims we don’t know about yet. The number could be anywhere from thirty to sixty. The way he wrote about them was…beyond sick. He tortured and killed every single one of those children. His most recent entries were about Ed,” He ground out.

Roy wasn’t surprised, but that didn’t stop the sudden gripping rage he felt. He wished he could’ve slowly burned the man alive, watched the flesh melt from his bones. Slitting his throat had been far too generous. “What did that bastard say?”

Maes watched his friend’s expression with concern. “I only read a little, but I'd prefer not to repeat what he wrote. However, I will say he knew a surprising amount about Ed’s history and fears. He developed some… fascination with him and somehow got Ed to open up to him in two weeks in a way I don’t think many else could. He was clearly a master manipulator. I’m worried he might have used that to hurt him.”

Roy could feel his stomach smoldering with cold, bitter hatred. His fingers were itching to set something ablaze. “I’m certain he did. The expression on Ed's face when I found him…” He grimaced at the memory. He wasn’t going to be able to erase the terror in his eyes or his thousand-yard stare as Merrick tortured him from his mind any time soon. “I’ve never seen him look like that before.”

Maes paused, looking haunted as he looked out the windshield. “It’s scary to think there are people in the world capable of things like this, hidden in plain sight.”

His friend sounded broken. Roy could tell he was thinking of his daughter as well as Ed. He made a noise of agreement, leaning back against the headrest. “How much longer do you think the investigation will be?”

“I’m not sure. Tomorrow should be the last day on site, thank god. I’ll most likely be in East City for another week, then I’ll have to head back to Central. How are you feeling?”

Roy grunted. “How do you think I’m feeling?”

Maes gave him a look.

“Well, generally, I feel like I’ve been run over by a train. But I could probably say the same for both of us.”

“Yeah,” Maes agreed. “I think that about sums it up.”

They sat in silence for the rest of the trip. Once the car was parked, Roy grudgingly let Maes help him out of the car and they walked up to the hospital. They spoke to the receptionist at the front desk and got clearance to visit Edward’s room, which was almost on the top floor. They rode the elevator up quickly. Roy could hear him in the brightly lit halls before they were at his room. He would recognize the familiar sound of Ed’s raised voice anywhere.

“I _know_ that, and I told you, I don’t care. Get the hell away from me _._ ”

“Brother, just for a few minutes! She just wants to help you.” That hollow voice was unmistakably Alphonse’s.

At least Ed had the energy to raise his voice, Roy thought grimly. He and Maes turned the last corner and they were at his room. They nodded to the officer standing guard at the door and walked inside.

Roy wasn’t encouraged by the sight of Ed pushing himself away from an exasperated nurse as far away as he could, clearly trembling with exertion. Even if it was a relief just to see the kid awake. He was sitting up against his pillows, head slightly raised. He couldn’t exactly move the majority of his body at the moment, but he was hunched back, breathing rapidly. Al was hovering at his brother’s shoulder, trying to keep Ed from injuring himself further. Riza was standing next to the nurse, who was holding a pair of scissors and a roll of clean bandages. Ed looked about as shitty as the last time he’d seen him. His face and throat were wrapped in bandages and stitches, and from what he could see under his thin hospital shirt, most of the rest of his body was swathed in bandages as well. Inky, finger shaped bruises snaked from his neck up to his cheek, bordering the gnarled skin on his shoulder where automail met flesh. Both of his arms were limp at his sides. He remembered Riza telling him it was a miracle there hadn’t been any permanent damage done. Thankfully, all of his injuries would heal over time. He would most definitely be taking time to recuperate in Resembool. Right now, his golden eyes, pale in the glaring light of the hospital room, were wide with anger and something akin to panic.

Ed’s brows lifted as his head snapped over to watch them enter. “Colonel? Hughes?” His voice was soft and fatigued. He broke into a fit of coughing, no doubt triggered by his most recent tirade against the long-suffering nurse who was still trying to attend to him.

Hughes gave him a tired smile. “Hey, Ed. I’m so glad to see you.”

Roy exchanged looks with Riza. Although she was as composed as ever, he could see the fatigue in her deep brown eyes. The nurse stepped back and shot them a tired glare. “Would you like to come back and try again in a little bit?” Hughes said to the nurse.

She looked at the new visitors, then back at Ed and nodded. “Next time I come back after your visitors have left, I’m bringing Doctor Atkins and we’re going to change your bandages and check some other things, alright, Edward?”

Ed scowled and let his head fell back into the pillows.

“I’ll come as well,” Hawkeye said. She brushed past Roy and their eyes met again briefly as she and the nurse exited. Ed looked up at the ceiling as they left. He looked exhausted, but at least he didn’t seem to be on the verge of panicking now that the nurse was gone.

“Hi, Colonel. Hi, Mr. Hughes,” Al said as he pulled Ed’s blanket back over his chest.

“Hello, Alphonse,” Roy said. “Fullmetal.” Ed’s eyes shot over to meet his for just a second, and with that one glance, he could feel a dozen different emotions boring into him with the force of a freight train.

“Hey, Alphonse. I’m in East City for the next week. How are you feeling, Ed?” Hughes asked, going to stand closer to his bed. Roy followed, and he didn’t miss how Ed’s eyes were tracking their every movement.

“Never been better,” Ed grunted. “Were you called down to East City to help with the investigation? I’m guessing his house had a lot of evidence.”

“Yes,” Maes said. Roy could tell he didn’t want to discuss the subject with him. “That’s what I’ve been doing for the last few days. We’ll be finished soon.”

“Are you here to question me? Because I don’t really feel like being interrogated at the moment.” Ed asked. There was clear hostility in his voice.

“Brother…” Al started.

“No,” Maes cut him off. “Nothing like that until you’re feeling better. You’re going to need to give an official testimony, and I’ll be present for that. But that won’t be until after you’ve recovered. I’m here because I wanted to see how you were doing, Ed.”

Ed snorted. His eyes were still trained determinedly on the ceiling.

“We don’t have a hidden agenda in coming here. That’s why I’m here as well,” Roy said.

Ed’s eyes flicked down to glare at him. Maes looked between them, quickly discerning the situation in a way only he could. “It’s a little cramped in here. I think I might step outside. Alphonse, would you care to join me?”

Al stepped back and looked at Roy. “Oh, I’m not sure! Ed, are you okay with me leaving with Mr. Hughes?”

“Um,” Ed’s eyes shot over to Roy again for just a moment. “Yeah, it’s fine. Can you see if you can get me something to eat?” Ed asked.

“Of course!” Al seemed happy to have something to do to do for his brother. He crossed the room to Maes, inching around the full table in the corner. Maes gave Roy a meaningful look before they exited, Al ducking under the door frame.

Roy stood awkwardly for just a moment. There was a chair pushed near Ed’s bedside on the other side. He made his way to it and sank it to the slightly sticky cushion, leaning into the hard back with a slight wince. Ed looked nervous. His eyes continuously flickered over to watch him. He was looking at Roy’s hands.

Maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea.

The silence pressed around them, thick and oppressive. Roy tried to consider what to say.

Ed beat him to it. He had lifted his head back off the bed and was trying to sit up. “If you say anything sympathetic to me, I’m gonna knock your teeth in.”

His teeth were stained a translucent shade of brown from the dried blood.The corners of Roy’s mouth twitched up in a ghost of a smile at his words. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

“Don’t underestimate me. I’ll chuck one of these stupid pillows at you. I almost managed it with the nurse earlier.” Ed suddenly winced and he rolled his left shoulder slightly.

Roy started to sit up to help him. “Are you alright?”

Ed flinched at his sudden movement, and Roy froze. “I told you, _pillow_ ,” He said with exasperation at Roy’s expression, forcing him back down with another glare. “And I’m fine.” He relaxed his shoulder again and inhaled slowly.

Roy gave him a look.

His eyes flared. “Okay, not _fine_ , fine. But I mean, I’m sitting here. Thanks to you, jackass. Not packaged up in a bunch of jars in that damn basement. Guess that’s what counts, right?”

Roy almost choked. “I—yeah. Right.”

“Are _you_ doing alright? You were stabbed,” Ed said, like he was suddenly remembering.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Actually fine. My wounds weren’t that bad. They released me this afternoon.”

“Lucky. I don’t want to know how long I’m going to be trapped here. Feels like I just got out,” Ed’s voice grew gravelly and he cleared his throat with a few hoarse coughs. His expression sharpened as he looked down at the bleached tile floor. “I was wondering. At Merrick’s house… how’d you know where to find me?”

Roy blinked at the sudden subject change. “It was blind luck, mostly. I noticed signs of a struggle by the entryway and I knew there was something off so I doubled back to try to find another way in. I saw him walking out to a garden shed in his backyard and I followed him down.”

“Blind luck,” Ed repeated in a hollow voice. “Guess that makes sense. It was in a garden shed?”

“Yeah. There was a bunker hidden in it. Investigators think he must have built it almost two decades ago.” They met eyes again and Ed quickly turned away. Roy looked at the dark fingerprints trailing down the side of his chin. There were slits where Merrick’s fingernails had dug into Ed’s skin.

Suddenly, the stab wound in Roy’s chest flared in pain, and he tried to suppress a grimace.

“Are you sure you’re not supposed to still be in a hospital bed? If I have to suffer in one, you should too,” Ed said, insulting him with a single raise of his stitched eyebrow. Roy noticed that a section of it had been sliced off.

“No. I told you, they released me this afternoon.” Roy leaned forward and crossed his legs slowly. “It’ll probably be another few days before—”

“Can you not look at me like that?”

Roy blinked. Ed’s voice was sharp. The kid was looking at the wall in front of him, still refusing to meet his eyes. “Like what?”

“Like… I don’t know.” His words were so quiet, Roy could hardly hear him. “Like you’re watching me. Makes me feel like I’m gonna be sick.” He screwed his eyes shut, breathing tensely.

 _Shit_. Roy blanched. He moved his chair back and turned to look at the table in the corner laden with gifts. He’d been well acquainted with the way Edward’s mind worked for almost three years, from the cagey twelve-year-old he’d first taken under his command to the vibrant fourteen-year-old who reported in to him just a few days ago. Over the years, they’d developed a shaky line of trust, formed entirely out of necessity, through explosive arguments and heated insults. It had strengthened steadily over time as Roy found himself caring more for the Elrics’ wellbeing, but it was still fragile at the best of times on Ed’s end.

And Merrick could have poisoned every single one of the kid’s relationships in just a few hours, ripped away any meager amount of trust he had in those around him. The fucking bastard.

“Fullmetal, I’m not going to hurt you. No one here is. He’s gone,” He said steadily, choosing his words carefully.

“Yeah. You killed him. I know that.”

“I did,” He said firmly. “And I don’t regret it. You can relax.” He said to the wall.

“I really can’t.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Roy asked in a quieter voice.

“No. No. It’s okay. I just can’t… just don’t look at me like that, okay?” Roy glanced over at him quickly. His eyes were open again. “How… how many children did he kill?” He asked, hesitating with every word.

The kid really needed to stop dropping these sudden questions on him. “We’re not sure of the exact number. It’s nothing you need to know.”

“Yes. It is, actually.”

The blank wall in front of Roy seemed to be mocking him. “You’re not blaming yourself for this, are you?”

Roy could see Ed was biting his inside of his lip in the corner of his eye. “ _No_ ,” He said firmly. “Fullmetal. Do _not_ blame yourself. You cannot internalize this. There was absolutely nothing you could have done in that situation. There was no way you could have known. Any of us could have known.”

“Daphne Kildare,” Ed said. His voice was barely discernible, thick with conviction and guilt. “She could’ve been a few hundred feet away from me while we were… while we talking. Her mom was sick. She told me that Daphne was taking care of her.” Someone as young as Ed shouldn’t be able to make the expression he was making right then.

“Yes, and absolutely none of that is not your fault. You didn’t know what that bastard was doing. None of us did. He had everyone fooled. You cannot take this on your shoulders.”

“It’s all I can think about. I can’t help it,” Ed snapped. He paused and swallowed hard, jaw clenched. “I remember he said… he said that Daphne was like an outlet. Just a byproduct of his fixation.” He sounded like he was going to be sick.

“Fixation?” Roy asked, lost.

“With me,” Ed bit out. “She was fourteen and she had blonde hair and brown eyes, didn’t she?”

There was a fist clenching around Roy’s heart. He was right. “Fullmetal…”

“I just don’t understand _why_. Why the hell did he fixate on me? It doesn’t make any sense. We spent all that time together. I was different from his other victims, somehow. He told me that. He said he’d been waiting to take me down there, to do that to me. I… I think that was the only reason you were able to catch on. He went outside of his usual MO and got sloppy.” His voice was slow, barely a whisper. “There must’ve been something I missed. Some clue I didn’t see.”

He sounded vulnerable. And painfully truthful. Something about it was almost incomprehensible to Roy. That he could let himself sound like that. He was reminded for the thousandth time that Edward was a child dealing with the insultingly bad hand he’d been given in life, and now was trying to begin to process the absurdly random, horrific things that had been done to him a few days earlier. It was easy to forget that in the day-to-day, but in rare moments like this where he could see behind the perpetual guard Ed set around himself, impossible to ignore.

And Roy didn’t have the faintest clue how to reply. Hollis Merrick was an experienced serial killer who’d hidden in plain sight for decades. A psychopathic, manipulative narcissist. There was no logical explanation for what happened like Edward wanted. Roy knew perfectly well the answers to the kid’s questions but he just didn’t know how to answer in the right way. Ed was clearly drowning in survivor’s guilt and a million other ailments stemmed from PTSD and an already deeply founded guilt complex the size of Central fucking Command.

Goddammit, he needed Hughes here. He was so out of his depth it was pathetic. He didn’t know how to talk to someone like this. “There was nothing, Fullmetal. There was nothing you could have done. Sometimes things in life just…happen and you can’t control them. Life is just random and cruel at times.”

“Gee, thanks. That’s uplifting.”

Roy wanted to bash his head against the nearest wall. What was wrong with him? “I’m trying to say these events were all completely outside of your control. Every single thing that happened was Merrick’s fault. Not yours. I want you to remember that, alright?”

Ed didn’t respond.

“Alright?” He asked again, voice brimming with authority.

“Yes. Fine,” Ed said, voice practically cutting bloody gashes into Roy’s skin.

He turned his head back from the wall and cocked his head closer to Ed again. "Are you planning on talking about these things with Alphonse?”

Ed shook his head. “No. And I’m not going to. He already feels guilty enough.”

That was rich, coming from him. “You’re underestimating your brother. He’s strong. He can handle hearing you speak about this. All Alphonse wants to do is to understand how to help you. And he can’t do that if you won’t tell him any of what happened to you.”

“No,” Ed snapped. “What you saw down there is staying between us. Wasn’t you telling me to talk to someone about my problems what landed me in this hospital bed in the first place?”

Ouch. He really had to just twist the knife. Technically, he was right. But that was _not_ the lesson Roy wanted him to learn from this. “That’s irrelevant and you know it. Just give your brother a chance.” Roy sighed. “And listen, if you need to talk about this… I’m here. We’re all here.”

Ed scoffed softly. “You know, it’s pathetic. I almost want to believe it.”

“Want to believe what?”

There was a heavy silence in the room. “’s nothing,” Ed finally said.

“Fullmetal, you can tell me.”

“Forget it.”

“Fullmetal.”

“Just _forget_ it, Colonel.”

“What is it?”

“I said forget it!”

“Look, I just want to—”

“ _Shut up._ ” Ed snarled. His voice was venomous. “Just… shut up. Stop talking to me like that.”

Roy glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge the kid’s expression. How the hell was he screwing this up so badly?

“Just back the hell off. Stop trying to act like my goddamn therapist.”

_Like him._

“You’re not—” Ed’s voice thinned again and he coughed loudly, then suddenly stopped.

Roy glanced back over at him and froze for a moment when he saw a disturbing amount of blood on the sheets pulled over Ed’s lap.

“Shit,” Ed said hoarsely, breaking into the hacking coughs again.

“Are you okay? Do you need the nurse?” Roy asked.

“No, no, this happened earlier. Just…” He let out a sound that sounded suspiciously like a wheeze. “Just blood in my mouth from the… hole in my throat.”

Roy got to his feet and glanced around the room. There was a slightly blood stained rag on the counter on the other side of the room. He walked across and grabbed it, turning back around to Ed.

“ _No_ ,” Ed said breathlessly, having the decency to look mortified. “If you try to touch me with that I’m literally gonna—” He broke down into another coughing fit and grimaced. Roy faltered, decidedly uncertain what to do. He didn’t want to make the kid any more uncomfortable than he already had.

“—Spew blood at you,” Ed ground out finally. He licked at the blood sitting around his dry lips.

“Do you always have to act like an overgrown toddler?” Roy asked with frustration.

“Don’t have energy to respond to your comments right now,” Ed rasped, head melting back into the wash of pillows behind his head. His eyes were clouding over with sudden exhaustion. Roy noticed he was shivering, and he leaned forward to pull the blanket further onto his chest.

There was a subdued knock at the door. Roy looked up as Alphonse and Hughes walked back in, holding what looked like a bowl of fruit and some rice on a tray. “We brought some food, for you. The nurses said it was alright for you to try to—” Al’s voice faltered as he looked at Ed. “Are you alright?”

Maes raised a brow at Roy, who was still standing at Ed’s side with the cloth. He shot his friend a glare.

“I’m okay. Think I need to go back t-to sleep,” He said haltingly. Al set down the tray of food on the edge of the table in the corner of the room and rushed to his brother’s side. Roy handed the cloth to Al without a word and Al wiped the blood from his brother’s chin and lap. “Try to stay awake, okay?” Al said. Ed just grunted in reply.

“I think we’ve exhausted him enough for one night,” Maes said in a low voice to Roy. He nodded, eyes trained on Ed, whose breathing was evening out again.

“I’ll go get the nurse,” Maes said to Al. Roy followed him out the door, when Ed suddenly tried to speak weakly.

“ _Wait_ … _Colonel_ …” He rasped. Roy turned around. Ed’s eyes were dull pinpricks, trained on him.

“Fullmetal?” He asked hesitantly. “What is it?” He stepped closer again.

“ _Don’t_ …” His eyes were fluttering shut. He gave one last muted cough and then his head sank further into the pillows.

“Brother?” Al sat down in the chair and shook his arm gently, but Ed was unresponsive.

“We need to leave for now, Roy,” Maes put a hand on his shoulder. “The doctor will need space.”

Roy nodded and dragged his eyes away from Ed’s motionless form, although his instincts were telling him to stay. They walked down the shadowed hall and found the nurse from before standing with another nurse and a short, balding, harried looking doctor. Hawkeye was still standing with them.

“Good evening, officers,” He said. “I’m Doctor Atkins. Are you finished visiting Edward for tonight?”

“Yes,” Roy said. “He was just now coughing up blood and he passed out.”

“That’s to be expected for a while. He suffered severe head trauma, and his body is still weak from the injuries inflicted, so any extraneous movement, including speaking, will result in exhaustion or even unconsciousness for another day or so. He’s responded well to his treatment, but the stab wound in his throat will still cause similar issues,” He reached over to grab a clipboard from a nearby nurse.

Hughes nodded. “And I’m guessing he’s been difficult since he woke up?”

The doctor nodded, eyes narrowed at whatever was written on the clipboard. “He woke little more than an hour ago. We’re about to change his bandages and check vitals to make sure there’s not an infection developing. If you’ll excuse us.” Roy and Hughes stood to the side as the doctor and the nurses made their way quickly down the hall, Hawkeye moving to follow them.

“Lieutenant,” Roy said. She stopped and turned around to face him. “I think it’s time you went home to get some rest. How long have you been at the hospital?”

Riza didn’t look impressed. “Only a few hours, sir. I’m fine to stay the night if I need to.”

“You don’t need to,” Roy stated. “Alphonse is here. He can take of Fullmetal. You should go home and get some rest. You have duties tomorrow.”

“I understand that.” She said steadily. “I want to stay and help.”

Hughes looked between the two of them. “Don’t tell me you’re blaming yourself too, Lieutenant,” he said.

She shifted her weight minutely. “I don’t blame myself,” She said. “However…” Few would have been able to identify the microscopic shift in her expression, but Roy saw the sadness in her eyes, clear as day. “I had a part to play in all of this. I think it’s only logical to feel some kind of responsibility.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Hughes slapped a hand to his forehead. “What am I going to do with the two of you?” He shook his head like a father scolding a pair of children. “Both of you are going home and getting some rest. Right now,” He scolded.

Roy wasn’t protesting, but Riza still didn’t look happy. “Lieutenant,” He repeated, and she tilted her head to look at him. Their eyes met, and a thousand unspoken words crossed between them. Her lips thinned in frustration and she nodded.

“Alright, then. Let’s go. You idiots can visit him again soon. He’s not going anywhere,” Hughes adjusted his glasses and began walking to the elevator.

Roy started after him and Riza paused for a moment before following his friend. They stood in the elevator in mutually exhausted silence.

Riza left with a salute as they parted ways at the hospital entrance. Roy and Maes made their way back to his closely parked car. The landscape beyond the hospital was barren, impossible to see under the cloudy, starless night.

“So. How’d it go back there?” Maes asked as he began pulling the car out.

Roy exhaled, watching his breath cloud in the chilled air of the car. “I’m only continuing to talk about this unless you buy me a drink first.” He knew that Maes was ready to have one of their legendary late night talks. And he also knew that he was fucking exhausted and might not be able to make it through one unless he had something to ease the discomfort.

Hughes shifted his hands on the wheel and gave him a look. “You just got out of the hospital. You really think I’m that irresponsible?”

“Are you really saying you don’t want something after having to be at that bastard’s house all day?”

Maes sighed and Roy knew he had him.

“The nearest bar is The Swirled Nightcap, just a few minutes off the next intersection.”

“I won’t ask why you know that information so well,” Maes said resignedly.

The drive over was quicker than the ride to the hospital. Roy folded his coat over his arm as they stepped into the warmly lit, mostly empty bar. They made their way to the counters and sat in the bar stools. The burly bartender made her way over to them. Maes asked for some fruity cocktail with brandy while Roy ordered his usual brand of whiskey.

“I’d like a Chivas Regal, neat, with a water back and a straw, please,” Roy said.

“Nope. Only two shots for him, please.” Maes interrupted him.

“No, I’d like a full glass,” Roy tried to speak over him, but his friend leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing threateningly. Roy shot him a venomous glare and sighed. “Fine. Two shots.”

The bartender gave them an unimpressed look and nodded, stepping away to prepare their drinks.

“So. Drink has been bought. Feel like talking yet?” Maes said.

“I’d hardly call that a drink,” Roy griped, leaning forward onto the counter.

“I _will_ load you back into the car and drive you home, Roy. I have plenty of experience with stubborn children.”

Roy humphed, watching as the bartender poured out his two shots.

“How did it go?” Maes asked. Roy considered what to say. With impressively quick speed, the bartender walked back with their finished drinks. They thanked her and she nodded and walked away again. Maes pulled his half filled drink closer, putting a hand around the base of his cocktail.

Roy lurched his stool forward, reached out for his drink, and downed one of the shots. “Aside from the fact that he looked like a cornered wild animal the entire time we were speaking, alright, I guess,” He finally said, feeling the familiar burn in his throat.

Maes leaned over to look at him. “Hard to see him like that, huh?”

Roy let out a humorless laugh. “Isn’t it for everyone? That kid’s been through hell. The fact that he’s this shaken up is not exactly a good sign.” He took a sip of the water back, staring at the racks of alcohol hung on the walls in front of them.

“What exactly did he say?”

“Mostly just blamed himself. Looked torn up and confused and scared.” He downed the other shot as he thought about what Ed had said about Daphne Kildare. He’d prefer not to discuss that point at the moment. He was certain he would do something violent if he did. “Wish the damn kid would just cut himself some slack.”

Maes nodded. “That’s got to be a good sign that he was even willing to speak to you at all.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“I thought he would want to talk to you, since you’re the one who found him. Give him some sense of balance.” Maes took a small sip of his drink. “And I thought you would want to speak to him, too.”

Roy pushed the empty glasses away and grunted. “Just doing what I would do for any of my subordinates.”

Hughes chuckled. “You know, for a supposed brilliant alchemist, you’re really thick sometimes. Something tells me you wouldn’t be going so out of your way to visit Lieutenant Breda if he was hospitalized like this.”

Roy leaned his head back and let out a dramatic sigh. “I really don’t feel like doing a deep dive into my relationship with Edward right now, Maes.”

“We don’t have to. It just seems hard to know where you are with each other sometimes.”

Roy almost snorted. _He_ certainly didn’t know where they were with each other. He eyed the liquor in front of his friend.

“You’re not having any more,” Hughes reminded him, following his eyes.

“C’mon, just one sip?”

Maes narrowed his eyes and pushed over his glass across the counter. “One sip,” he said.

“One,” Roy agreed, reaching over and pulling the glass up to his lips. He took a generous drink and curled his lip when it didn’t hit like he wanted.

“I’m not getting anything stronger. I still have to drive us home. And just because I don’t prefer my liquor to burn like lighter fluid doesn’t mean you get to judge my alcohol preferences,” Maes said dryly.

“I didn’t say anything,” Roy said, leaning his elbow against the counter.

“You don’t have to for me to recognize that condescending look in your eyes. I can’t afford to be an alcoholic when I have a wife and kid at home.”

Roy shoved his glass back over with more force than necessary. “’m not an alcoholic. If I was, wouldn’t that make you an enabler?”

“Mmm. Try saying that to the expansive collection of bottles in your cabinets. It’s gotta be some kind of crime to own more bottles of alcohol than cutlery and dishes combined.”

“Well, I don’t have the time to spend every other night entertaining like a certain someone I know, so there’s not really much of a point, is there?” Roy said grumpily. “What, were you rifling through my kitchen while I was at the hospital?”

“Not rifling,” Maes said, taking another sip. “Just mourning the death of tasteful interior design and how badly my best friend needs a girlfriend.”

Roy snorted. “Get a life.”

“You first.”

“Never.” Roy leaned further against the counter.

Maes took off his glasses and wiped his hand against his eyes. His hair was uncharacteristically messy. “You’re saying Ed needs to cut himself some slack, but I think you also need to do the same. I can tell how much you’re blaming yourself, too, along with the lieutenant.”

Roy’s eyes fixed on the condensation beading on the table, listening to the dull chatter from the bar’s other patrons as he thought. Maes was right, of course. It did feel, just a little, like the one time he had tried to do something to help Ed, it had blown up directly in his face and he’d caused the kid to suffer ten times more than he had been at the start. Honestly, how bad was his luck? Was everything he touched going to implode in his hands? “Is this just a sign from the universe?” He asked no one in particular. The ceiling, maybe. “Am I supposed to just butt out of this kid’s life and leave him the hell alone?”

“No,” Hughes said. “I don’t think so. Look, you mentioned that Ed has been taking all of this on his shoulders, even though it’s not logical for him to try to take the blame for everything that happened. Take your own advice, Roy. Neither of you are to blame. I know you know that, deep down.”

Roy scoffed. “I’m almost certain I said the exact same thing to him in there.”

“You know, you two are more similar than either of you are willing to admit.”

His eyes snapped up from the counter to return Maes’ eye contact.

Yeah. They really were.

Roy had a lot he needed to think about.

 _Shit_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s up with me uploading chapters of this on holidays? Happy New Year! I hope everyone has a great start to their 2021! Let’s hope it’s an improvement from last year. Good thing I’m starting mine out with a sad, angsty fic entirely about bullying Ed :o)  
> Last chapter will be up next Friday! As always, thank you so much for reading <33


	8. Solstice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> Description of injuries, hospitalization, intrusive thoughts

Not being able to use either of your arms, as it turned out, really, _really_ sucked.

When Ed woke up, he was gasping in pain. He wanted to sit up and put his hands on his aching head, but his right was still useless and his left sent stabs of pain down his arm every time he tried to move it. The doctor had apparently turned down whatever painkillers they’d been injecting him with for some reason or another, and it hurt like hell.

He thrashed around when he felt hands holding him down. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to get away from the contact, that he was about to die. It took a moment for the fog to clear and realize that it was only Alphonse. His voice was blurry and unclear, and then suddenly there were more people in the room, more people touching him. He scrambled away from them in a panic and catapulted himself off the side of the bed, tumbling right against the cold metal of his brother’s body. There was a sudden tearing pain in his flesh arm and he landed on his back on the cold floor. Something long and metallic crashed onto his head. He managed to bite back a scream as the shattered bones in his body imploded with pain. The nurses crowded at his side and he kicked out at them with his one functioning limb: his automail leg. His leg found purchase on something solid, and there was a cry of pain. The voices were deafeningly loud all around him, including the unmistakable hollow timbre of his brother’s voice. They fell back until he could only hear Al’s voice, low and soft. It was closer now, and he flinched as he felt those hands on his shoulders. Ed beat back the instincts screaming at him to _get the fuck away_ as the hands gently pulled him up and pressed him against a hard chest plate. He was trembling from the frenzied fear and pain as the arms wrapped tightly around him. His head rested against Al’s breastplate as he held him in place. Ed was rigid at first, but after a few moments he collapsed into the embrace, his shoulders shaking from restrained sobs.

* * *

There was a knock on Ed’s hospital room at around noon.

It was Sunday, according to Al. Only five days since that night according to the calendar, but five thousand according to Ed’s internal clock, even if he’d only been conscious for two of them. Hospital visits were always unpleasant, but this one was particularly painful. Despite what he liked to tell everyone around him, he still hadn’t fully recovered from the memories of his automail surgery. Ed remembered crying every night of the surgery, Winry and Pinako watching on, unable to sleep because of the guilt over recently having ripped Al’s body away from him. It felt like he’d been reliving that recently, in a lot of different ways. 

Those memories alone usually made him jumpy at hospitals, and now he had another load of bullshit dumped into his lap. Apparently, he’d woken up in a blind panic the night before and somehow managed to throw himself onto the floor, rip out his IV, and give a nurse a black eye before he passed out in his brother’s arms, sobbing. He had absolutely no memory of it, thank god, though the increased persistent pain in his body assured him that it had most definitely happened.

He’d been expecting the dreams to come back with a vengeance, but strangely enough, he hadn’t had any yet that he could remember. The snatches he could remember since waking up a few days ago were shadowy and bizarre, but nothing like the vivid ones that left him petrified and gasping for breath earlier that month, sleepwalking or caught in the throes of sleep paralysis. He supposed he should’ve been glad, but those nightmares had been replaced by deep-seated fear and nausea almost every time anyone touched him or looked at him wrong, which was decidedly much, much worse. It was frustrating. He _knew_ he wasn’t in that damn bunker anymore, he _knew_ no one here was going to hurt him, but his body didn’t seem to give two flying fucks. It made him feel pathetic, and it made him unreasonably angry at how everyone was treating him like a fragile child. Although, he supposed that was exactly what he was at the moment. Flinching every time anyone so much as sneezed. Wanting to sink into the mattress and let the ground swallow him every time someone’s fingers even brushed him.

The most obnoxious had been Mustang. The asshole had the gall to look _caring._ Ed had hoped that he, of all people, would treat him normally. He’d had some childish hope that the colonel’s presence might be comforting after seeing him in that place. It had been, in a way, but their brief exchange had been poisoned mostly by the crushing dread in Ed’s chest that told him that his commanding officer was going to turn everything he said against him and tear him into pieces.

Just like before.

Just like Merrick. Just like fucking Merrick.

Merrick was long gone, throat slit and bled out like a stuck pig in that bunker at Mustang’s hand, but even in death he was messing with his head. His ghost was still crouching somewhere in the back of Ed’s mind, constantly whispering in his ear, telling him that he was a twisted monster, he was alone, he was in danger, he was never going to be the same.

Ed knew most of that was untrue, some weird, confusing symptom of PTSD, spurred on by his chronic case of tunnel vision. But he wasn’t so sure about that last one. Everything had come crashing down at such a tremendous speed, he couldn’t help but wonder if it could ever be built up the same way again 

Alphonse was reading in the corner of the room, some fictional story about a boy trying to find his lost pets. He seemed to be enjoying it. Yesterday, at Al’s request, Hawkeye had dropped off some books from the library to help ease Ed’s boredom. He just wished he could hold one of the damn things himself. She also brought a newspaper with a front page article someone had written about him: ‘ _Fullmetal and Flame Alchemists Bring Down Famed East City Serial Killer_.’ It spun his capture and Mustang’s idiotic, narrowly successful rescue as some clever ploy to catch Merrick. The writer praised him as a hero, although Ed certainly didn’t feel like one. He certainly wasn’t protesting. He vastly preferred their version of events. It was right, in some roundabout way. They’d won in the end. He was caught. No other innocents were going to die. But the victory was far too pyrrhic for Ed to feel good about it.

Al paused his reading as a nurse opened the door and ducked her head inside. It wasn’t the one Ed had slugged, judging by her very unbroken nose. She did look plenty wary, though. Ed couldn’t blame her.

“There’s someone here to see you. She says she knows you. Name is Evelyn Kildare?”

The air was suddenly gone in Ed’s lungs. He stared at the nurse.

“Kildare?” Al said with surprise. “Wasn’t that the name of one of the-”

“Uh, yeah, I-I know her,” Ed stammered. “You can let her in.”

The nurse raised her brows at his reaction. “You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” He snapped.

“Alright,” She said with a sigh. “If you have any more issues, we’re not letting in any more visitors for while, though, alright?”

“Fine.” The nurse gave him one last distrustful look before she turned around and walked out.

“Did you know the family of one of the victims?” Al asked quietly. He had set his book down on his lap.

“Not really,” Ed said. “I just met her at HQ. Before.”

“Oh. Are you sure you want to talk to her?”

“Yeah. I’m okay,” Ed said. They sat in tentative silence until the door opened again. A familiar face with heavy bags under her eyes and pale brown hair peeked around the door.

“Hi, Mrs. Kildare,” Ed mustered up the least strained smile he could. The stitches and bruises on his face twinged.

Mrs. Kildare’s eyes widened as she took in his appearance. “Edward!” She sounded surprised to be in the same room as him. She stepped in and shut the door behind her slowly. “Thank you for allowing me to see you today. I wasn’t sure if you’d be up for seeing visitors.” She moved awkwardly to stand a respectful distance from Ed’s bed. Her clothes looked as drab and wrinkled as the last time he’d seen her.

“I’m Alphonse,” Al said. “I’m Ed’s younger brother.”

“Oh. Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Alphonse,” Mrs. Kildare said to him. “I met Edward in Eastern Headquarters just after…” Her expression fell.

There was awkward silence.

“I’ll let you two speak alone, if that’s what you’d prefer,” Al said, looking between them.

“Yes, please,” Ed said gratefully.

Mrs. Kildare nodded at him as Al stood up from his chair and set his book down. He inched around Ed’s bed and apologized as he brushed past her to reach the door.

Ed spoke as soon as the door shut. “Are you doing okay?” He asked. He knew it was a stupid question, but he didn’t know what else to say.

Mrs. Kildare wrapped her arms around herself. Despite her disheveled appearance, she at least appeared better than the last time Ed had seen her. “I’m doing alright. I should be asking you how you’re doing.”

Ed shrugged slightly. “I’m decent. Feeling better every day.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” She said. “I was so worried when I heard of what happened. I was called in to meet with an officer and they told me everything.”

Ed tensed. He was almost certain she was going to curse him for what he’d done, but her expression was still soft and nervous.

“When they showed me a picture of him, I recognized him. He helped me up when I fell walking across a street close to my house, just a few hours before Daphne went missing. He was kind to me. His voice sounded… nice.”

“He sounded nice to me, too,” Ed said quietly.

Mrs. Kildare looked at him. “Listen, I… I came here today to thank you,” She finally said.

“Thank me?” Ed asked blankly.

“Yes,” She said, a kind spark in her eyes. “I can’t imagine what you went through. I know that despite what the news outlets have said, you were almost one of his victims. And I am beyond relieved that you’re safe. I’m so sorry you had to suffer through that. But… it’s thanks to you that I and the parents of the other children have a sense of peace. It’s difficult, but I feel relieved.”

 _Peace._ Ed blinked. He couldn’t find words.

“I might never have known whether my Daphne had passed on or whether she was still alive, in pain somewhere. And I know…” Her eyes were suddenly watering. “I know she suffered, but I also _know_. That’s more than the other parents in the last ten years have been able to say. I can hold a funeral for my little girl. We all can. And I just…” She wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “I want you to know that you ever need help or anything… my home is always open.”

“I— thank you, Mrs. Kildare.” Ed said lamely. “I’m glad I was able to help in some way. I just wish I could have helped Daphne.” He wondered if the woman would be still be as kind and thankful if she knew that her daughter had been tortured, murdered, and pulled apart piece by piece just because she vaguely resembled Ed.

“Please, don’t blame yourself like that,” Mrs. Kildare urged. “Don’t forget it’s because of you I’ve been able to sleep soundly for the first time in over a week,” She said, looking genuinely happy for the first time Ed had seen. “You were so kind to me the first time we met. I only hope I’m able reciprocate the same consideration you showed for my daughter.”

Ed still wasn’t sure how to respond to all this vastly undeserved praise. Thankfully, Mrs. Kildare continued.

“I’m holding a funeral for Daphne next week.” She dug through one of the pockets in her frayed coat and pulled out something. She stepped forward carefully and set it in his lap. He looked down. It was a small, simply decorated sheaf of paper, the size of an envelope. Four simply outlined birds sat in the corners of the card. _In Memory Of: Daphne Madaline Kildare, 1899-1913_. _Service held on Sunday, December 7th, 2pm at The Curtain Bell Chapel._

A funeral for Daphne. Or what was left of her.

_There is something beautiful about that concerto of silence at a funeral, knowing that you were its cause._

There was suddenly an army of fire ants crawling up Ed’s spine. Mrs. Kildare was holding a funeral because of him. Daphne was dead because of him. He wished he could beat the stupid ghost whispering threats and accusations into his ear into a pulp. He was so tired of remembering little snatches of what Merrick had said. It felt like poison just lying in wait. When Ed first woke up, most of it had been a blur, but jarring snippets of their conversations kept coming back at the worst moments.

Ed’s words were caught in his throat. He swallowed hard as she stepped back lightly and continued speaking. “Her favorite animals were birds,” She explained. “There was a finch that she used to give treats to outside our house.” She paused to look at Ed’s stricken expression. “It will be a small service. You’re more than welcome to come if you would like.”

“Thank you,” He managed. “I’ll… I’ll try.”

“Thank _you_ , Edward. I hope I’ll see you next week.” She gave him a small wave and one last relatively happy looking smile before she left again.

* * *

Ed was dodging sleep again. He was an expert at it by this point. The snatches he allowed himself were troubled. Not by nightmares, just memories. Memories of what they’d spoken about. Every conversation he remembered seemed to be mocking him, showing him it was obvious all along. That he’d missed one piece of critical information that could have clued him in and saved Daphne’s life. So she could’ve held her little brother in her lap and fed that finch in her backyard again. He could’ve figured out what was going on, clocked Merrick right in the nose, turned him into the authorities, and stopped this whole fiasco. He knew hindsight was a bitch and all that, but he couldn’t get it out of his head.

And goddammit, wasn’t this sleep deprivation and brand of circular thinking exactly what landed him in this mess in the first place? It was infuriating. He’d just been about to get moving again. He’d been stuck in this gray sinkhole of a city for almost a month now. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t distract himself. The unstinting hospital walls seemed to be pressing in around him, forcing his memories to slowly rot. He couldn’t escape the thoughts churning around in his head like a limp, smelly load of laundry. A load of laundry that needed to be taken out for several years. That Merrick had promptly walked past and taken a gigantic shit on.

He woke up from his stilted sleep sweaty and shivering and uncomfortable. It felt like his skin had grown into the bed sheets. A nurse walked in, took one look at him, and took his temperature. She announced he had a high grade fever, and after some painful examining, it was determined that none of his injuries had been infected. The doctor told him that heightened body temperature after injuries like his were normal. His body was probably fighting off infection, failing to meet metabolic demands, blah blah blah. He said most of it for Al’s sake. Ed mostly tuned him out, falling into a feverish daze for most of the day. He was pretty sure the doctor had told him his name the night he’d woken up, but he couldn’t be bothered to remember it.

The day before, just a few hours after Mrs. Kildare left, the nurses had helped put both of his arms into slings across his chest. His left was still in a cast, but it felt better to be able to at least be able to sit up a little easier. He wanted to get up and move, even if it meant Al pushing him around in a wheelchair, but the doctor told him he needed to wait another day or two because of some concern over his broken foot or ribs.

Ed still hadn’t mustered up the courage to call Winry to come take a look at his arm, although Al had been urging him to. Ed wasn’t looking forward to seeing her reaction to his busted automail or knowing the extent of the damage. If he had to have any operations done to the port to get it functioning again, he was going to lose it. Going through automail surgery a second time was about the last thing he wanted to do.

Aside from staying in this damn hospital.

Havoc and Hawkeye briefly came by to visit him and drop off another book that Ed had requested. Havoc brought a get well soon card, looking disappointed by the larger sizes of Ed’s other gifts. He was too out of it to speak much with them, but he heard Alphonse talking to them in hushed voices. He wished everyone would stop speaking like that around him. Like they were at a funeral.

Ed wasn’t sure what time it was when he woke up. The sky outside was jarringly bright, the edges of the room fuzzy. That didn’t seem to make much sense, given that he was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep in the evening, but his perception of time was pretty fucked at that point. He could sense his brother was sitting across the room. “Al?” He asked in a croaky voice.

“I’m here, brother,” He heard Al say.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. What is it?” 

Ed hesitated. There was something nagging at him from his washed out dreams, something bugging him. “Can you remember what mom sounded like?” He asked.

There was silence for a few moments. Al was probably taken aback from the question. Ed was himself. “I… I think I can,” Al said in a cautious voice. “Why?”

“I was just wondering,” Ed said softly. “You were six when she died. I wouldn’t be surprised if you couldn’t.”

There was a clanking sound as Al leaned forward. “I think I can remember what she sounded like when she sang to us. Didn’t she sing lullabies to us before bed?”

“Yeah. She did.” Ed could almost hear them now.

“Were you dreaming about her?”

“Yeah.” Her voice had been in his dream. He couldn’t remember why, but he’d known it was there. Sometimes, her mouth opened in his nightmares, but nothing came out. He’d been young himself when she died. Sometimes, he couldn’t remember her exact features or the feelof her skin against his when he hugged her, and that terrified him. That one day he’d only be able to remember her through a faded photograph, her voice gone from his memory forever.

“Do you ever dream of anything else?”

Ed blinked. “What do you mean?” He asked.

Al was suddenly in front of him. “I’ve watched you wake up every night for the last month with the same nightmares again and again. All because you fucked mom over, and then you fucked me over, too. And I’m tired of it. You can’t redeem yourself, Ed. There’s no way to. Why do you even bother feeling guilty?”

Ed physically recoiled. It hurt beyond words to hear that in Al’s gentle voice. “W… what? Al? What are you—” His voice was cut off by Al’s large hands suddenly shooting forward and wrapping tightly around his throat. Ed choked in surprise as his head was slammed into the bed frame. He tried to clutch at his hands, but he couldn’t. They were tied down. Chained. He couldn’t move. _Fuck_ , he was there again. The air was bitingly cold, there was a knife in his throat, he couldn’t _do_ anything…

Ed woke with a start.

He was still lying in the papery hospital bed, drenched in sweat and freezing, gasping for breath. His nose was itching from the smell of antiseptic and his throat was burning. He’d been crying out in his sleep, he could tell. He glanced around the dimly lit room and was relieved to see the fuzzy edges from before were gone. This was real. It felt different, more concrete. The sky outside the window was blissfully dark.

And he was right back to where he’d started.

He thought he was going to be done with nightmares for at least a little while longer, but apparently, they were just getting more realistic. And creative. He supposed it was also probably the fever. This one had better not be a nightmare within a nightmare within a nightmare, or he was just going to give up on his stupid brain. Why did it insist on actively working against him?

Ed started as he realized someone was sitting in one of the uncomfortable chairs pushed against the walls. His features twitched as he realized it wasn’t Al. Hold on. Was that the fucking…?

“Colonel?” He croaked with surprise, squinting at the man seated a few feet away.

“Hey.” Yup, definitely the colonel. Typical vaguely irritating expression, neatly trimmed hair, and inky black eyes that blended into the shadowy room. Dressed in a button up and black pants and holding a familiar book. He at least looked less disheveled than the last time he’d visited.

“Hey yourself,” Ed rasped, desperately trying to slow his breathing. The nightmare still felt fresh. His stomach was doing flips. He felt feverish, but less so than earlier.

“Are you okay?” Mustang sat forward, setting the book to the side. His movements were slow and deliberate, like he was trying not to startle Ed. He still had that _concern_ in his voice. Ed wished he would just go back to lecturing and ordering him and poking at him like he normally did. He missed normal.

“Would you believe me if I said I was?” Ed asked, trying to ease himself into sitting up. His incapacitated arms were not making it easy.

“Probably not.”

Ed didn’t try to mask his look of disgust as he leaned back his head into the pillows. “Th’hell are you doin’ here again?” It’d been surprising enough the first time he’d visited.

“That seems a little rude to say to the person who saved your life.”

“Are you really just gonna keep lording that over me?” He grumbled.

“Yep,” Mustang said without missing a beat.

He was joking, right? He probably was. “Great,” Ed said dourly. He couldn’t tell if he was looking forward to round two with the colonel again or not. “Don’t tell me I owe you a second time.” Was this seriously the second time in a month he'd found himself in the colonel's debt?

“No. You don’t owe me."

Ed glared and looked around the room. They were definitely alone. “Where’s Al?”

“He’s with Hughes at my apartment.”

“Your apartment? Why?” Something about his brother being at the colonel’s apartment just seemed innately… weird.

“He’s been in this hospital room day and night for almost a week. Hughes was concerned he needed a break, though he insisted he was fine. My apartment was the only place where he could entertain him at the moment.”

“Oh,” Ed said. It probably hadn’t been pleasant for Al to be trapped in there with him for all these days. He should’ve thought of that. “So you volunteered to come sit with the invalid?” He asked. Mustang was looking at him, and it was making him jittery. His eyes slid over to glance briefly at the colonel. How did people normally talk to each other? Were you supposed to look at their eyes? Or their forehead?

“Are you just going to insult yourself for me today, Fullmetal?”

Ed glared crossly in the vague direction of his right shoulder. “You must really have no life, huh? Visiting me twice within the same, what, four days?”

“Your brother asked me. And I came here to bring something for you.” Mustang reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small metallic object and leaned forward to set it on Ed’s bedside table.

It was the fucking paperweight.

Ed gave him a look. Mustang’s expression was slightly amused. There was a brownish red stain on it that looked suspiciously like dried blood. “Seriously?”

“I found it in his house.”

“Yeah, and then you bludgeoned him over the head with it. I remember. Pretty sure it fell out of my pocket when he…” Ed trailed off. “You really don’t want it? You seemed pissed off when I took it earlier.”

“I don’t want that thing anymore. You can keep it.”

“What, like I want it? It’s still ugly as hell.”

“You may insult it, but it saved both our lives in there.”

That was true, as much as Ed hated to admit it. It’d been sheer dumb fucking luck that Mustang happened to find that, just like it’d been dumb luck that sent him down to the bunker to save his life. It was beyond insulting to know that all of what he’d gone through was just bad luck. Just a rotten random sequence of events, a bad roll of the dice from God, or the universe, or whatever.

Things will go wrong in any given situation, if given the chance. Murphy’s law seemed to be the benchmark for his life at the moment.

“It saved both our lives because you didn’t bring your gloves or any other kind of weapon, you idiot,” Ed bit back. Reverting back to insults was always the easiest route. “What, did you suddenly forget you’re called the fucking Flame Alchemist all of a sudden?”

The colonel hmmphed. “I didn’t exactly know that it was going to come to a conflict. I would’ve brought a gun if I’d known.”

“So the creepy bunker didn’t clue you in? That _maybe_ you should’ve gone back to get something?” Ed scoffed. “Whatever. You really are useless when it rains.”

“Look, if you don’t want it, I’ll throw it out. I don’t want anything to do with it anymore.”

Ed turned to look back at it. As much as it was just a piece of evidence of what’d happened, owning an object that Mustang had used to beat Merrick senseless with sounded nice. And it was stupid, but it somehow felt like a reminder that things might go back to some sense of normalcy. One day, he might go back to antagonizing and stealing random shit from Colonel Bitchass.

Maybe.

“No, I’ll keep it,” He said.

Mustang nodded like he’d been expecting him to say that. He looked down to his right. “Doing some light reading in here?” He said, nodding slightly at the half open book he’d set aside. Ed glanced over at it, even though he already knew exactly what it was. An ancient, heavy alchemy book knotted with dog eared pages and bookmarks, pages covered with Ed’s illegible handwriting.

“I asked for Hawkeye to bring it.”

“Looks like you’ve pored over it quite a bit. I don’t recognize the name,” Mustang flipped the book over to read the cover. “ _Theatricum Chemicum_?” He read aloud.

Ed almost snorted. He wasn’t surprised the colonel didn’t know it. “It’s an anthology of alchemical literature from the seventeenth century. Not that you’d know that.” He paused for a moment. “’There is no light, but what lives in the sunne; there is no sunne, but which is twice begott. Arte then what nature left in hand doth take, and out of one a twofold worke doth make.’” He kept his eyes fixed on the book as he recited.

Mustang looked surprised. “You have it memorized?”

“Parts of it.” He’d reread it so many times, his favorite parts tended to stick with him. “‘s from one of the poems inside. That was the first alchemy book I ever read. I think it was my dad’s. I like reading it when I feel like shit. Kind of like a reminder.”

The expression on Mustang’s face was something parallel to… fondness. _Gross_. “Smartass. Only you could find an obscure book about alchemy comforting,” He said.

“It’s not obscure, you’re just a shitty alchemist,” Ed sniped.

“Or I don’t have the time to spend half my life with my nose buried behind a book,” Mustang retorted.

“But you do have the time to go around flirting with every woman you meet and making them wildly uncomfortable,” Ed pointed out.

“If by making them wildly uncomfortable, you mean charming and captivating them, then yes.”

“Fuck off. That’s definitely not what I meant,” Ed said. “And look…” He raised his eyes up for a moment. “I know you didn’t come because you wanted to return that to me. You don’t have to lie. Why are you really here?”

Mustang blinked stupidly. He looked genuinely confused. “That is why I’m here. Because your brother asked me to come.”

Ed’s eyes narrowed, tight with trepidation. “I don’t believe you.”

Something shifted in Mustang’s eyes. Some recognition. “You were suspicious the last time I visited you.”

Ed clenched his jaw, turning to look at the bed. How thick was he? Did they really have to go into this? “Can you just answer the damn question?”

“I already did,” Mustang insisted. “I’m here because someone needed to be here with you, and your brother is taking a break for a few hours. And because I care about your well-being.”

Ed scoffed. Mustang’s eyes were on him again.

“You’re shaking.”

“Yeah, well it’s a little hard not to be on edge in this place,” He snapped.

Mustang was trying to catch his eye, but Ed wouldn’t look. Couldn’t. “Are you scared?”

“I don’t know. What if I am?”

“I would say that’s understandable.”

“I’d say it’s pathetic.”

“Hey. It’s not pathetic.”

“Yeah. Right. I can’t think of anything more pathetic than being scared of you."

“It’s not just me though, is it?” Mustang asked gently.

There were muted voices speaking outside in the hall. Ed wished he could stand up and join them. “No,” He said bitterly. “It’s you and everyone else on the goddamn planet."

“Are you having nightmares again?” The colonel asked.

“…Yes. I am. Not that it’s any of your business.”

Mustang looked at him for a moment longer before he moved to fix his gaze on the wall across from Ed. “I’m sorry.”

Ed dared to move his eyes over to look at him. It was okay to look, as long as they didn’t make eye contact. “Don’t apologize. It’s not like it’s your fault. ‘s kinda unavoidable at this point. And who cares, anyway.”

“ _I_ care,” Mustang said stubbornly.

If looks could kill. Ed shot daggers and swords at Mustang as the colonel shifted slightly, eyes still fixated on the wall across from them. “I understand nightmares.” Mustang’s voice was quiet. “I understand being kept up at night because of your mistakes. That was why I sent you to him in the first place. I was hoping I could help you with yours, even just a little. Set you back on your path.”

Ed watched him speak, scrutinized his facial expressions. Mustang looked sincere. He wished he could understand what the hell he was thinking. If only Ed could crack open his mind and leaf through his thoughts like one of the books he’d bled out so much of his life into. That would make this so much easier, less hard to navigate. He’d never heard the colonel speak about anything like this. It was weird, but wasn’t this entire situation just fucked anyway?

There was some invisible string tangled in his ribcage, tugging him forward. He wasn’t sure if he should let himself be pulled, but he did anyway. “What are yours about?”

Silence.

“I killed children, too, Fullmetal.”

Ed’s stomach did a somersault. Not out of apprehension or fear, just… shock. Confusion. Mustang’s eyes were tired, rimmed with sadness.

Oh, _shit_.

What the fuck was he supposed to say to that? He knew the colonel must have plenty of baggage from the war, but he’d never heard him speak this candidly about it. For what he’d _thought_ were obvious reasons. Mustang had been hailed as a war hero above board and showered in praise, but Ed knew the truth like anyone else living in the east. Of what he’d done. He and all those other alchemists.

This seemed like ground Ed shouldn’t be treading on. Mustang was leapfrogging over a thousand unspoken boundaries both of them had set up from the first time they’d met. If he said the wrong thing, both of them were going to tumble right off the edge of the very, very precarious cliff Mustang had just dropped both of them onto.

“A lot of things happened in the east that keep me up at night. There’s nothing I could ever say or do that could change what I did. I’ll always have to live with the truth of that I did. Of my own free will. If someone knew about those things and used them to torment me, I’d be losing sleep, too.”

Mustang wasn’t just dropping them onto a cliff, he was dragging Ed right off the fucking edge, kicking and screaming. “I. I don’t…” Ed faltered. His mind was doing jumping jacks trying to spit out the right response. “I understand. How that’s different. I know that. You don’t have to tell me about these things, colonel,” He settled on somewhat uneasily.

Mustang shifted to look at him again. Ed instantly turned away.

_Coward._

“I want to.”

“Why?” Ed asked his bed.

“I want you to know you’re not alone,” Mustang replied.

Not alone? Ed almost laughed as he stared down at his bedsheets. This situation was so bizarre, he was almost convinced he was just trapped in another hyperrealistic nightmare, like the center of some fucked up set of nesting dolls.

Not alone.

Damn it. It was working. “Shut up,” He muttered, letting his eyes close.

“No.” Mustang answered almost immediately. “You’re not alone, Fullmetal, did you hear me? He wanted you to feel like that. Like you’re alone and that everything that’s gone wrong in your life is your fault. He was wrong. Everything that son of a bitch said to you was bullshit. You did not deserve anything that happened to you, and none of it is your fault.”

_Your fault. Fucking monster._

Mustang had said this same thing last time. Ed knew he was right. He knew everything he was saying was true, but it just… it all felt like a trap. Alphonse hated him. Mustang would leave him eventually. “Stop,” Ed said finally, so quietly he could barely hear himself.

“It wasn’t your fault, Fullmetal.”

“I said _stop._ Just fucking stop. Don’t.”

_Not you._

“None of this has ever been your fault.”

“Get out,” His eyes sputtered open again, voice cracking. From emotion or strain Ed couldn’t tell. “Shut the fuck up. Leave me alone.”

“I’m not leaving, Fullmetal.” Mustang said gently.

“I said _get out_!” He shouted, looking at Mustang for just a moment with wild eyes. “Just go. If you’re gonna leave, I’d prefer you just do it now and get it over with. Go back to being my commanding officer, for once. Stop trying to be my fucking—” Ed barely cut himself off in time. “Just stop. Stop.”

Mustang looked at a loss. “What do you mean by—”

“I didn’t mean anything.”

“But you said—”

“I didn’t _say_ anything!” He snarled, twisting away his head from Mustang to look at the opposite wall.

More silence. The moon shifted, shining from behind a crack between the curtains. It enveloped the room, washing out the bed and the bedside table in a bright white glow.

“Fullmetal, if you really want me to go, I’ll go."

Ed bowed his head forward, looking down at the clean bandages on his chest. “I… don’t want you to go.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I don’t know.” The room was filled with the sound of the muted voices from outside again.

Mustang stayed silent, gauging his reaction.

“I just… It’s so fucking frustrating. That I’m like this. He shouldn’t get to do that. He didn’t even _do_ that much.” Ed swallowed. “Just said a bunch of dumb shit and stabbed me a few times. I’m in the fucking military, aren’t I? I should be able to handle some stupid torture.”

“It wasn’t just stupid torture.”

“I’d say that’s exactly what it was.”

“Nothing about what you went through was stupid.”

“I don’t know about that,” Ed murmured. “You hired me on as a state alchemist. Be thou for the fucking people? Aren’t I a soldier? My entire job is to protect people. What the hell am I doing if I couldn’t even save her life?”

“Fullmetal,” His voice was intent, laced with meaning. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, but you had absolutely no responsibility for that girl's life. She was gone before you ever could have known.”

Then why the hell did it _feel_ like his fault?

“And sometimes, you need protecting, too.”

Ed shot another murderous glare in his general direction before he was looking down again. The sunken circles under Ed’s eyes were stinging. His stomach was churning. He pressed his tongue between his teeth, trying to steel himself. “I told him everything,” He whispered at length, unable to keep the biting hatred from seeping into his voice. “I told him more than I’ve told any other person. Even Al.” Ed finally pulled his head away from his chest. From Mustang’s body language in the corner of his eye, he could tell the colonel was making that same expression from before. The one that made Ed want to commit homicide, but also made him feel something else. Something tight and deep in his chest that he couldn’t quite place.

“He took everything I said and he threw it right back in my face. There was nothing I could do. If he did that, anyone could. It just… it feels like everything’s over, somehow. Like nothing’ll be the same.”

“Hey, nothing is over, not by a long shot.” Mustang was leaning forward, like he wanted to move closer. Ed almost wished he would. “This is going to pass. You’re going to get back on your feet. You’re going to find that damn stone, you and Alphonse are going to get your bodies back, and I’m going to be there every step of the way when you need me. I’m not going to abandon you, and I’m not going to hurt you. Ever. I promise you that, Fullmetal. I know you can’t really believe me right now, but just give it time, alright?”

Ed finally dragged his eyes up to look into Mustang’s. They were different from Merrick’s, dark as a hot summer night and filled with a thousand wordless promises where Merrick’s had been terrifyingly empty and filled with threats, lies, traps. He didn’t see a cold, calculating man, ready to up and leave or hurt him when Ed needed him most. He saw someone broken, like him. Someone who’d been at his side for years, who’d silently helped him from the shadows.

“Time.” He could barely get the syllable out.

“Yes. Time,” Mustang repeated, voice steady. “In a week, or a month, or five years, I’ll still be here. I’m not going anywhere. As long as you need me.”

That felt like… a lot. A promise that he wasn’t going to let him down.

Time heals all wounds. Wasn’t that a saying? Kind of seemed like bullshit, but it was a nice thought. That all of this would just be a particularly unpleasant memory one day. “Okay.” He said weakly. He was out of words at that point.

_Thank you._

“I mean it. All of what I said.”

“You should be careful talking like that,” Ed said. “Someone might overhear and actually think you’re a decent person.”

“Don’t get too used to it. I’m sure we’ll be back at each other’s throats by the end of the month.”

Ed hoped so. That would be far preferable to whatever the fuck _this_ was. “Um. Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“There’s a funeral on Sunday. For Daphne Kildare. Her mom came by and invited me yesterday. Do you think you could come, too?”

“Oh.” He was surprised.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Ed cut in quickly.

“No, no. I’ll come. Where is it?”

“The invitation’s right there,” Ed nodded to the bedside table and Mustang leaned over to pick it up.

“I’ll be there,” He said as he read it over.

Ed felt something akin to relief as he let out a puff of air and leaned back into his pillows. A dizzying wave of exhaustion was sweeping over him, goaded on by the residual fever. The conversation had taken a lot out of him, just like last time.

“Are you tired?” Mustang asked.

“No,” Ed replied before yawning widely.

“Mmhmm. Al said you haven’t been sleeping much again.”

“What were you expecting?” He asked flatly.

“You should try to get more rest.”

“I don’t think that’s such a great idea right now.”

“Just give it a shot?”

Ed squinted at him. Mustang was being serious. “God. Fine.” He griped, sinking back into the bed. “Are you gonna stay until morning?”

“I don’t know. I hadn’t considered it.”

Ed blinked down at the ground. “Can you?”

“Sure.”

“…And can you visit again? Tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I’m not going back into work for another day.” His gaze trailed down to his right. “Do you want me to read from your book?”

“I’m not a little kid.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

Ed rolled his eyes and burrowed deeper into his blankets. But he didn’t protest any more as he curled onto his side and Mustang picked up his book.

His eyes were already fogging over as Mustang started reading. His voice was low and comforting in the back of his head as he stared down at his bed. He felt a warmth he hadn’t felt since he’d been trapped in the freezing bunker. Was it safety?

No, not quite. But something close. Close enough for him in that moment.

* * *

Roy read for over an hour.

His throat was raw, but it was worth it. Ed’s eyes were shutting after only a few minutes. He had to be the only kid in existence who could be lulled to sleep like this. Roy scarcely understood the words coming out of his mouth. Lots of archaic, florid poetry filled with endless mentions of God and nature and elements and the mysterious stone. It was the most esoteric thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Ed’s scrawling littered the nooks and crannies on every page, detailed notes written in a mind-bending code only he would ever fathom. He wrote frantically, like some unknown phantom had a gun to his head. Roy guessed, in his own way, he did.

Ed’s features were relaxed in that moment, breathing steady and soft, vastly unlike the tortured breaths he’d been taking in just before he woke. That had to be a good sign, right?

Right. He could only hope the kid wasn’t having one of those legendary nightmares he’d heard so much about. The kind he was all too familiar with. Roy finally set the book aside and stretched out his sore arms. The rickety chair was about as comfortable as sitting on a bed of nails.

He’d had a lot of time to think since their last conversation, which had been both a blessing a curse since his departure from his usual work schedule. He was painfully aware that Ed needed an adult to rely on right now, to not betray him, and if that someone was going to be him, fuck it. Roy was far from perfect, but he was _something_. He’d brought the kid into the circumstances that led to this situation, and he was Roy’s damn responsibility.

Their conversation had gone better than he’d thought it would. Ed had opened up, against the insurmountable odds. Not a whole lot, but enough for him to know that the kid was trusting him as much as he could right then. And that was a huge fucking deal.

Roy was going to help pull Ed out of this, no matter how much it took. He knew the others around Ed, those who cared for him, those who he relied on would do the same. Ed was going to be fine. It was just going to take time. Like he’d told him. He was going to live a long, happy life, as far as Roy had something to say about it, and Merrick was going to be nothing but a bad memory in the future, just like the sick fuck deserved.

Roy finally looked away from Ed and got to his feet. He’d promised to spend the night, and he was.

Unfortunately. He was beginning to regret that decision now.

Roy asked a passing nurse for a few more blankets for Ed and himself. He spread one out on the chair and covered Ed’s curled in form with two more. He eased himself back down, cursing his bad back vigorously in his head. Roy balled up his coat and stuck it behind his head before he promptly passed out.

* * *

Riza and Al walked in early the next morning to find Ed and Roy sprawled out on their respective chair and bed. There was a line of drool trailing out of Roy’s mouth. Loud snoring was drifting out from the mound of sheets and blankets that appeared to be Ed.

Riza crossed her arms as she looked down at the colonel. Al moved forward to wake his brother, but Riza caught his arm. “Let them sleep,” She whispered fondly. “I think they both need it.”

* * *

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

Al’s thoughts were interrupted by the familiar sound of his brother’s curious voice. It was nice to hear it back at its regular strength, not gutted and uncharacteristically faint. “Oh, nothing much,” Al responded. “Just glad to be sitting here with you."

They were seated in the dappled shade beneath a tree, in the grassy fenced in area behind the hospital. The sun was bright and warm, and the air was thankfully less cold that day. Al could hear the faint traffic from the front of the hospital, but other than that and occasional bird cries and a passing breeze, peaceful silence.

Ed had predictably been going stir crazy laying around inside all day, so Al finally managed to cajole the nurses into letting him wheel Ed outside so they could sit together, with the promise that he would be very gentle and they wouldn’t stay out too long. Ed was seated in his wheelchair under a few blankets, leaning over at him. Most of the color had returned to his face. He looked relaxed out here, not paranoid like he was in the room. “Me too,” Ed replied.

“Did you have any nightmares last night?” Al asked.

“No, I didn’t."

“Really? That’s great!”

“They’ve been better recently,” Ed admitted. “Definitely not as bad as before.”

“Is it because of the colonel?”

“What?” Ed whirled around, jumping on that notion with the viciousness of a rabid lion attacking a limping gazelle. " _No._ ”

“You seemed to sleep better after he spent the night in your room,” Al said in a teasing voice.

“Oh, give me a break,” Ed huffed. “That has nothing to do with it. Screw off.”

“Alright, alright,” Al held up in his hands in surrender. “Just making an observation.” He looked up at the tree branched again. “Have your dreams been about the same stuff as before, or are they about that night?” He asked softly.

Ed turned away again. “Ah… both, I guess.”

“I’m sorry you’re having them again. You had just gotten better.”

“Believe me, I’m frustrated too,” Ed said. He looked down at his lap, thinking. “I feel like I’m weighing you down, getting stuck here in the city for so long. Delaying the search. We’re never going to get your body back if I wimp out like this for weeks at a time.”

“Brother,” Al said, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. He was so sick of hearing Ed blame himself. “You’re not weighing me down. You never can. I care more about your wellbeing than anything else. I haven’t minded taking a break at all.”

“You mean it?” Ed asked.

“Of course I do.”

“Well, don’t get too used to it,” Ed said. “‘Cause the moment I heal up, we’re getting back on the road and I’m gonna kick some major ass. I don’t know whose, but they’d better watch out.”

Al laughed. He felt unspeakable relief at hearing Ed speaking like that again. Seeing him vulnerable and frightened hurt him in a way nothing else could, made the painful gap in their maturity feel miles wide. He’d felt those phantom pains of grief every night, maybe in the distant connection between his real body and this one, as he watched his brother sleep, looking at the evidence on body of what he’d gone through. Sometimes, Ed would get all spacey in the middle of a conversation, and when he snapped back into it, he looked really scared, for just a moment. Al wished he could tell what he was thinking about.

But he was getting better. The doctor told him so. It was nice to have hope. He just wished Ed could promise him that he’d be okay, that everything was going to go back to normal soon, but he knew that was unreasonable. Ed didn’t seem certain himself.

“It’s nice to hear you being yourself again,” Al said. He reached over slowly to put a hand on Ed’s shoulder. It was a relief not to feel him flinch away. “I love you, brother.”

“I love you too, Al,” Ed said. He was smiling.

* * *

It’d been a long time since Ed had been in a church.

He usually felt unwelcome in them, given his own complex feelings about organized religion and the existence of a God. If there really was a God, he had a few questions he wanted to ask that omnipotent asshole about the joke that had become his life. Preferably with his fists.

Despite his reputation as a loud-mouthed cynic, he intimately understood religion. It sounded nice, to have faith. To think that there was someone kind and all-knowing being watching over you constantly, that everything that happened to you had some mysterious purpose. Ed almost wished he could shut his eyes and trust that. He would probably be a lot more at peace.

But that just wasn’t who Ed was. He was an alchemist through and through, bound by what he could put his own two grubby hands on. Everything in the world could be understood through what it were composed of: elements and compounds, further made up of atoms and molecules and ions, constantly humming with energy and potential and life. Ed knew their properties and behaviors and reactions like the scars carved into his flesh. Lime and carbon dioxide formed calcium carbonate, potassium and chlorine gas produced chloride, methane and molecular oxygen produced water and the air he breathed in every day.

Chemical reactions, equivalent exchange… Merrick had killed so many, had taken so much life. For something of that weight to be lost, something had to be gained, somewhere, right? That thought had been fermenting in his head ever since he woke up in the hospital. Ed sneered at himself inwardly. That kind of thinking was its own particular brand of blind faith, wasn’t it?

His thoughts were muddled and scattered as he and Al were dropped off at the church. It was a cold, gray day, symptomatic of the burgeoning winter season. Mustang showed up, just like he promised, wearing slacks and a button up and a dark coat. It was weird to see him out of his blues so much. He’d visited Ed again multiple times after his visit the week before. The colonel also brought both Hughes and Riza, much to Ed’s surprise. Hughes was apparently heading back to Central City in just another day or two. They met just as Al was wheeling up Ed in front of the church. It was still humiliating to be in a wheelchair in public, but there was nothing that could be done. His arms were both still useless, still in slings across his chest, so no crutches for him. Al barely managed to help wrangle him into a suit and coat and get his hair into a braid. Ed’s leg was going to be out of repair for weeks to come. At least some of his wounds were finally starting to heal. Maybe then every stranger who passed by him would stop doing a double take and shooting a sympathetic look.

They said their hellos and walked in rather morose silence to the church. A few other strangers fell in line close to them. The Curtain Bell Chapel was small and decrepit. It was located in one of the oldest districts of East City, wedged in between two equally ancient buildings with weathered brick and mended windows. Hughes held the door for them, and they made their way inside. The solemn sound of an organ filled the room. The air inside was still cold. It smelled like history and ink and parchment and decades of strongly burning incense and candles. Despite its small size, the building had a soaring ceiling with impressive arches and stained glass windows.

There was a small casket at the head of the room, surrounded by two large bouquets of flowers in front of the rows of pews. The few dozen or so people in the room spoke in hushed voices that echoed off the cavernous walls.

The somewhat odd group made their way across the room. Ed recognized Mrs. Kildare standing near the casket. A tall man and a toddler from her photograph stood behind her.

“Are we supposed to just sit down?” Mustang murmured to Hughes as they slowed.

“We should go give our respects,” Hughes whispered.

“We don’t know her!” Mustang hissed back. A passing woman shot him a glare.

“Please try not to make a scene, sir,” Hawkeye droned at him.

“I’m not making a scene, I just—” He crossed his arms. “Fine.”

Ed hardly paid attention. His eyes were fixed on the casket. Was it empty? He’d seen the remains of Daphne himself. That memory felt like a distant bad dream in the chapel. He couldn’t decide if it was more morbid to put them inside the casket or bury it empty.

Hawkeye stepped to Ed and put a gentle hand close to his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

He managed not to jump. “Yeah.” Those thoughts seemed a little morbid for a funeral. “I want to go say hi,” he told Al. His brother nodded, and he was wheeled over to Mrs. Kildare, a somewhat reluctant Mustang and crew in tow. They waited in the short line of people waiting to speak with her. Ed avoided the looks the strangers gave him. Some little kid was gawking at him.

They reached her all too soon, and Mrs. Kildare smiled when she saw Ed. “Edward,” She said with a watery smile. He wasn’t surprised to see tear marks were trailing down her cheeks. She was dressed in a long black dress, with a chain on a cross around her neck. Her hair was neater than he’d ever seen it.

“Hi, Mrs. Kildare,” Ed said.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” She said gratefully. “Thank you for coming.”

“Here to pay my respects,” He said with a tight smile.

“I’m sure she’d be happy you’re here,” She said gently. “You two would have gotten along."

God _dammit_ , he wasn’t going to choke up. He wasn’t. “Thanks,” He said feebly.

“You look better,” She said. “Happier.”

“I wish I could say the same for you.” 

“I’ll be alright.” She hesitated for a few moments, then held out her arms towards him. “May I?” She asked.

It took him a moment to catch on. “Oh. Um, sure.” Mrs. Kildare stepped forward and wrapped her light arms around his shoulders. Ed wished he could pat her on the back or something, but he was forced to just lean his head forward into her shoulder and try not to show the comfort he felt too openly on his face.

She smiled at him again as she backed away. The rest also politely gave their condolences.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Ed watched as Mustang leaned over to shake her hand. The colonel gave him a reassuring smile when he caught him looking, and Ed scowled.

The service was mercifully short. An old man in an ornate robe and a red stole gave a long speech. Stuff about how Daphne was a joy in life and was in eternal joy right at that moment. This was all for some grand purpose. Typical stuff people liked to tell themselves to deal with the random, cruel shit life tended to throw. The organ droned in the background. A child was bawling loudly for half the sermon. Ed was sitting next to Al on the edge of his row. He got fidgety during the service, and Mustang reached over to swat him lightly on the arm, hissing at him to pay attention. Al put a hand across his chest as Ed started, half ready to launch himself at Mustang right then and there.

After the service was over, a team of men picked up the casket and walked outside. All of the guests slowly filed out of the pews and followed silently. There was a small gated cemetery behind the chapel, filled with old, unreadable headstones and even older gnarled, half bare trees. Daphne’s fresh stone was already set in place, a rectangle of empty earth in place in front.

The cold air felt all too familiar as he watched the priest say a few more words. A prayer. Ed watched the the people around him, brows furrowed with silent invocations. Hughes had closed his eyes, but Ed managed to Mustang’s eye, who was also glancing around like a heathen. They shared a look of _you too?_ as the priest finished. The casket was lowered into the plot afterwards, and Mrs. Kildare let out a suppressed cry. A woman was holding her close, comforting her.

The crowd waned and waxed as the graveside service ended. Ed asked Al to wheel him up closer to Daphne’s gravestone. He read it and sat there for a moment, thinking. Al stepped away to Hughes and the others, probably to give him a moment.

Ed had a lot on his mind as he stared forward. That headstone in front of him seemed so blunt. Rude, almost.

He jumped at the sudden sound of leaves crunching near him. Someone was at his side. He didn’t have to look up to tell who it was. There was silence between them for a few moments until Ed cut in. “ _God_ , this sucks ass.”

The colonel looked at him. “The funeral?”

“Everything.” Ed shook his head. “Just… everything.”

“Agreed.” Mustang slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

Ed squinted at the engraved lettering on Daphne’s headstone. His probably would’ve looked similar if he hadn’t found been found. “Have you been to many funerals?”

“Yes. I have,” Mustang said. His gaze was also fixed on the plain gray headstone.

“I’ve only been to one,” Ed said. He could see Mustang’s hairline rise.“It’s been a while for me.” His expression grew taut as he looked down at the hardpacked dirt.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Blaming yourself. Stop it."

“Stop talking to me like I’m a dog."

“Stop looking like a kicked puppy, then,” Mustang snapped back, equally fast.

Ed’s expression scrunched as he tried to decipher whether or not that was a stab at his height. A thousand dog related insults flitted through Ed’s mind before he decided to just shoot him a withering look instead, stare right into his eyes. The rush of discomfort was still there, but it was less frantic this time. That discomfort morphed into the warm memory of a promise as quickly as it slammed in his gut.

“Are you planning on going to Resembool soon?” Mustang asked.

“Probably,” Ed replied, looking away again. “Winry’s gonna have an earful for me.”

“I want you to take as long as you need, you hear me?” Mustang said sternly. “Don’t come rushing back before you’re ready.”

“I won’t. Don’t think Al’d let me anyway,” Ed grunted. His gaze shifted up to the bright sky, the decrepit nearby buildings. “D’you think everything’ll eventually go back to normal? After this?” He asked.

“Yes. I do,” Mustang said steadily. “Time, remember?”

“Time. Right.”

There was a mottled gray and orange bird in the branches of one of the bare trees.

Ed felt some kind of gradual shudder in the air he watched it hop about the branches. He didn’t flinch when he heard the sudden crashing of armor behind him, felt Al’s reassuring hand on his shoulder. Ed watched the bird flit away from the tree into the pale mid-morning sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick endnote! Theatrum Chemicum Britannicum is a real collection of literature about alchemy, complied by Elias Ashmole in 1652. The excerpt I took is from a poem in it called the Aenigma Philosophicum by D.D. W. Bedman.  
> And we made it to the end! Thank you SO much for taking the time to read it means so much to me. Every comment and ask I get makes me so unbelievably happy THANK YOU!! I Love You and I hope you all enjoyed :)  
> Also! I am currently working on two other FMA fics right now that I am very excited about. No horrifying serial killer therapists this time I promise :o) I’ll hopefully be able to start uploading the first with a regular schedule soon! <33


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